The projects of life
by annuscka
Summary: A LukaSusan story, friendship or romance
1. Prolouge

**Author's comments:  
I have to set one thing straight; English is not my mothertounge, neither my second language but one of the four languages I try to manage, so there may be some errors here and there. I have spell- and grammar checked the text in MSWord about a thousand times, but I'm pretty sure there still are flaws. Try and bear it, please!  
**I do not speak Croatian either; so any wrong translations are InterTran's fault, not mine ;)

**_Italics_ – flashbacks!**  
  
**AND – **_All things in this fic that have not been mentioned/shown on the real show are products of my imagination! And yes, I know that Luka doesn't live in a traditional apartment building, but now he does ;) Not really, but I like my little invention Ellie the neighbour… _

**This is my first ER fic, so if it's not very good that's why… ;) **

And… I own nothing and am in no way connected to NBC etc…

**THE PROJECTS OF LIFE**

**PROLOUGE [part one] : A LONG AWAITED ENDING**

The message on his machine was humiliating.   
"Hi Luka, it's Abby. I'm sorry I snapped at you like that earlier… maybe we could talk tomorrow… that's if you still want to…-"   
The words came slowly to her, as if she had trouble figuring out what to say. Suddenly she made a pause and Luka could hear Carter's tense voice and the familiar sound of County in action in the background. Abby was apparently listening to him for a while, and then her voice came back on the tape, a bit stressed this time.   
"Look, Luka… I'd better go… see you…"   
The clicking sound of her hanging up the phone felt like an evil laugh, playing over and over again in his head. It felt like the final rejection. He had recognized the tone in her voice; she was getting angry but didn't want to show it. Was she angry with Carter or with him? Or mad at herself for caring enough to call and leave this obnoxious message?   
He could see Carter's self-righteous smile, hear the staff whispering and gossiping about what they thought was the truth about Luka Kovac. Their truth, a truth about a crazy and dangerous womanizer who killed muggers and drove like a maniac while being married to a ghost.   
They didn't know a damn thing. Nobody knew a damn thing about him.

Neither did he. He didn't recognize himself either. The man he met in the mirror nowadays wasn't the old and familiar face he had seen everyday since discovering mirrors at the age of maybe two. Because of this he had started to avoid mirrors, but when it wasn't possible the picture that met him was the picture of a before his time aged and tired man, with several pounds of weight loss as the result of an unhealthy diet on vodka, whiskey, Valium, hospital coffee and throat lozenges to hide the smell in his breath.

The darker the night outside his windows without curtains became, the louder the sounds inside his head once again became. It wasn't just Abby's voice and the phone clicking anymore; there were old sounds too; sounds from what felt like a previous life that now came back to him faster then he could handle. They had been ringing in his ears for days now, only getting worse, impossible for him to fight. 

He sat at his kitchen table and stared out of the windows, but still not seeing the Chicago skyline in front of him. The sounds took over his head and kept him from finishing the last letter.

_The sound of people screaming and crying, the sound of human bodies falling to the ground and being ripped into pieces, the sound of bomb shells not only crashing buildings but also human lives, human strength and the very last of human hope. The sound of desperate prayers to a God that hadn't proved his existance for years, the sound of men, women and children crying for help, the sound of old hospital equipment breaking and taking with them the very last hope of the patient's family waiting outside. The sound of mortally wounded people's cries, cries that filled the hospital every day._

As the sounds reached their top spots, the pictures, only flashes at first but then longer sequences, fast turned into the horror movie he called his life.

_The sight of the torn bodies on the street where he lived, and the ruins of buildings that people on the streets had called home only seconds ago. How the sky always seemed to be dark, with no rays of the sun shining down on Vukovar when it was needed. The horrified look on the families' faces outside the trauma rooms when they realized the power had gone out and the lifesaving equipment with it._

Soon the movie inside his head became real. He could feel what the pictures inside showed him. The smell of what seconds, minutes, hours and days ago had been human beings, the guilt striking everytime he realized it this time was one of his childhood or college friends and not him who had lost everything.

And then it came. The final of the movie, sound, photo and feelings perfect.

_The warning signal filling his head. Him rushing out on the street, pushing people to the side, not thinking any better than Abby thought he drove. The word 'no' being formed in his head, streaming out as loud repeated yells as he threw himself inside what used to be his home. How something hard as iron and cold as ice crept inside his left leg, and then a sharp pain rising, only causing him to scream more.  
_  
He never got whatever was in there out of his leg. He couldn't walk through airport metal detectors without causing them to go crazy. That was the reason he didn't like flying very much. He hated pity above everything, even above explaining things about his past in Croatia, and if people found out he had a piece of metal inside his leg, they inevitably would want to know how he got it there. About once a month it started to hurt like hell, why he didn't know and wasn't interested in finding out either. Lately the pain seemed to have forgotten its schedule though, it only intensified as the days passed by instead of easing up. The past mornings he had barely been able to get out of bed. He had tried everything; not using the leg, using it as usual to get used to the pain, trying to stretch out the muscles in it even though he knew the injury wasn't in them. After almost collapsing in the lounge one day in early autumn he in desperation stole a couple of Valium he was supposed to give a patient. It had been the first time to be followed by many others; and they still didn't help. Trying to speed up the effect he had done something he had been warning people from doing all these years – he had started mixing them with vodka or whiskey. Not much at first, but as the days passed by and the pain grew the doses did the same, getting company of whatever he could come up with that would knock him out enough to stop feeling things. Instead of feeling he started doing things he would never had done otherwise. He had been pretty high on several things that night with Chuny, and the Valium and alcohol hung over that hit him the next day made him take a new dose. And then another one, and another one…  
His drugged appearance made people whisper even more, but thanks to the pills he became immune to it. At least for some time. His mood switched from miserable to happiness over a few pain free hours a few times every day, he tried to have the most significant changes at home or at least somewhere else than at County, but the doses he had to take now to keep the pain away were so great that it was hard to keep clear for even a few hours. He had started drinking at the hospital too. Vodka, that didn't smell. Carter and Abby had almost caught him once in the lounge. That would certainly be the only time he was happy they were too caught up in each other to notice anything around them.  
But he still didn't get how incredibly stupid he had been that last hour at the hospital.  
He must have calculated wrong earlier; at least he had had to take a new dose just before another trauma came in. As they stood in the ambulance bay waiting for the MVA he had felt the effect speeding through his body. He had tried to keep it down, but it was impossible. As they rolled the gurney inside the hospital the pain was almost gone. So was his judgement. He didn't remember how many times he had dropped things before Elizabeth pushed him out of the way. The look in Carter's eyes had been pretty obvious. He didn't really remember how he had got out of there, only that Carter had had a point somewhere in everything he had been yelling, but he certainly knew that when he had gotten home a few minutes later the effect was almost over already. To keep the little there was left he had started drinking, and that was what he had been doing since then. 

The movie speeded up when he managed to get up from the chair and started limping across the livingroom with the unfinished letter and an almost empty whiskey bottle in his hand. Considering how hard it was to walk straight he must have taken a new dose not so long ago. But it couldn't have been the painkillers, because his leg still hurt and he didn't feel very good either. Damn – if it had been the sleeping pills he might pass out before he got this letter finished. On top of that the movie clips inside his head seemed to jump forward faster than ever, leaving out details, as rushing to show that the best was yet to come. 

_Him finally reaching the leftovers of the door to the flat, desperately starting to search for a way to get inside, while screaming Danijela's name over and over again. How he between two yells heard her weak voice moaning for him from inside the apartment. _

Hearing Danijela moan for him then was one of the last times he had heard his name being pronounced rightly. Over the years he had heard at least a million different versions of both his first and last name, none of them very satisfying. 

Abby's had been the best so far. She had a special way of pronouncing his first name that made her sound almost like Danijela. He knew she only did it when she wanted him to do something for her, but no matter how much in Carter's possession she was, he always fell for it. 

_Encouraged by Danijela still being alive he had managed to get through the crashed wall. When he fell down on the apartment floor the pain in his leg rose to new heights, but that was nothing compared to having his heart ripped out when he saw his son's bloody arm under the broken crib. Even without touching Marko he had know it was too late. Actually the time had never been there. Everything had gone too fast, the missile had hit the roof, the crib had been destroyed and in only a split second the baby had gotten under everything._

He hadn't been in any pain. Unlike his mother and sister he had had a fast and painless death, hadn't had to face any angst or fear before everything had been over. As his father it was comforting to think of.   
Jasna had been breathing when he reached her. Not much, but much enough for him to be filled with hope. Maybe he would only have to loose his son; maybe his girls would make it.   
The sight of Danijela's bleeding abdomen had crushed that hope. 

The depressing song he had been listening to the past weeks reached its crescendo, and so did the movie inside his head. 

_Him yelling at Danijela not to give up. Him breathing for his daughter for hours and hours, not even thinking the thought of giving up, there was no such thing back then. Then the thought and the realization of everything being too late slowly creeping into his mind. Him leaning over Danijela, searching for her pulse, still with Jasna in his arms. His wife's cold skin and hair without glow under his fingertips, the bleeding wound on his daughter's forehead. _

The song started to play on repeat again for what had to be the thirtieth time, and he threw the bottle across the floor in a sudden attack of fury over everything. He yelled a Croatian curse when the bottle met its destiny on his floor and sank down on the couch, all the anger fading away, only leaving emptiness and distinctive smell of whiskey left. The whole flat smelled the same, that hadn't been the first bottle to finish its life like that; being smashed to the floor still with some content in it. Maybe it was waste of good stuff, but since he didn't really want to drink, throwing half empty bottles around him was his pathetic way of proving it to himself. He didn't want to be like this; he was disgusted with himself.  
He hated what he had become.  
Who he had become.  
In Croatia, no matter how bad things around them had been, he still had known how to smile and laugh; now it seemed to be ages since he had been truly and genuinely happy. Everything he did made him hate himself even more; every unknown woman, every pill, and every emptied bottle. At the same time he got some sick satisfaction of destroying and torturing himself; he felt his best when everything was at its worst. He didn't deserve to live. Life was made for people without sins, without dark secrets.  
He had lost his right to be alive twice. He had not saved his wife and children; he had left them to go out for those damn supplies, leaving him alive but them, the innocent ones, dead. He had hurt the ones he loved time and time again, starting with his family by leaving Croatia without saying goodbye, and then Abby. He and no one else had driven her into Carter's open arms, using her as an excuse, as his right to be alive. 

She was gone. Soon he'd be too. 

Bitter tears that made his hands tremble started welling out of his eyes as he picked up the picture from the coffe table. It was burned and old, but he could still see them smile at him. Danijela, Jasna and Marko. His family. His own flesh and blood, his everything. It was so long ago he had heard those light voices call him 'tata', so long ago since Jasna had taken her first steps to the sound of something breaking outside. So long ago since Marko had been born, so long since he had been able to tell Danijela he loved her. So long he had last felt like a father.  
He had never nodded and said 'yes, I am' when patients asked him if he was a father, he always shook his head and felt the pain coming. He was glad he switched from paediatric to ER ; kids would always be his favourite patients but he would never be able to see all the couples with their children, day after day. He wasn't even able to think about it. He clearly remembered his feelings when Mark and Elizabeth had Ella; mixed with being happy for them he felt a strong ache in his heart, an ache not even Abby had been able to heal. 

But despite his mixed feelings on Ella's birth, he had always liked Mark. Not that they had ever talked very much, almost never actually, but still there had always been something so genuinely friendly and nice about the man. He had really been one of the few people in the world who were easy to talk to, not necessarily serious things, just things, maybe not even certain things, just one word put after another, not meaning anything. There had never been anyone else like that at County, at least not for him. He knew most people now considered Carter that, but he would never be able to do so. Not in this life, and not in the next either. He wasn't actually sure if he believed in a life after this. Not anymore. Once he had, but the faith that had promised him that had let him down too many times.   
  
At Mark's funeral and the time before and after he hadn't allowed himself to grief like everybody else at County had. He had never really known Mark, had just felt in peace with most things while being around him, which of course was more than he could say about most persons. But there were so many at the hospital that had greater right to grief than he had. Susan, for example. He had really felt bad for her, even if she never showed it was obvious she had been strongly affected by Mark's death. They all had, all County. It was as if the atmosphere had changed, like if a gloomy shadow had fallen over the place. The patients seemed to have worse injuries, the relations between the staff got more and more infected for every day that passed by. 

Maybe he should take most of the blame for that. Things had clearly seemed to mess up, one upon another lately. At first it had 'only' been the nurses he had problems with, but then as the Valium doses he swallowed grew higher, other things were added to the faster and faster spinning squirrel wheel.   
It wasn't only once or twice lately that he had been close to make catastrophic mistakes that could have cost patients their lives. Ordering wrong medications, thinking too slowly. The looks and the angry comments from the rest of the staff also grew with the doses. Even though he knew he should stop taking the pills and stop, or at least take it easier with the drinking right now and immediately, he couldn't. He knew he was addicted, at least to the pills if not to both. But he didn't want to face it.  
  
He had never thought he could fall this low. After all his years at hospitals he should know what drugs did to people, and even if Valium wasn't considered a "real" drug it sure as hell had captured him inside a prison built of pills, alcohol and lies. He lied to everyone about everything. His whole life was a lie. 

Over his years at County he had become a pretty good actor. At first he had been avoiding everything and everyone, then, somewhere in the middle of his relationship with Abby he finally understood that if he didn't want to get known as the zombie from former Yugoslavia then he'd better start talking to people. So he put up a new act. And it worked. Better than he had thought it would actually. He had actually kidded himself for a while. 

A lonely tear fell down on Danijela's hair; he wept it away only to find another between Jasna and Marko on their mother's lap. Still shaking and crying he put it back on the table together with the other pictures he had received earlier in the week. His father had cleaned the attic and found them in a box in which he had put them there after the catastrophe, neither he being able to handle looking at them. In the letter attached he had written that he hoped they could give Luka some light; that the memories could help him to forget. 

Luka couldn't believe how a man usually so sensible as his father could come up with such a poor idea. An idea without head and tail, as they said here. Memories to help one forget? Help him to handle things? 

He didn't _want_ to handle things anymore. It was a project too big to handle, and he was too tired even to try. All his life had been based on projects. Getting through school. Getting through med school and getting married. Having a daughter. Seeing his son being born at the anniversary of the war starting. Loosing everything and getting back on his feet. Travelling around Europe, not fitting in anywhere. Coming to America, to Illinois and Chicago. Meeting Carol and then Abby, thinking she maybe would be the one to start a new project with. Seeing Abby slip away from him and yelling those words he would regret for the rest of his life to her. Starting from scratch again by going to Bosnia. Coming back and thinking everything would be OK. Getting his hopes up when Abby lived with him after the attack and then getting them thrown back in his face during the lockdown. Having to face Carter and her every single day, pretending things still were OK. Trying to find someone else, and ending up with hookers and Valium. Making himself known at County as God knows what. 

He had only one project left now, when he was finished with the letters.  
After tonight he would never set a foot at County again.   
Wanting to get things over with, he reached for a pen on the coffee table and started writing again while anguish thoughts filled his head. 

All these years he had tried to forget; tried to handle things, tried not to start with the last project. This week he had tried even harder, all the empty bottles as miserable examples of him failing gathered on the table and floor. It looked like a dope for addicts. Danijela would not have been pleased to see what he had become. 

The thought of her looking down at him from somewhere made him as miserable as the empty bottles looked. He knew what her beautiful eyes looked like when she was disappointed. They were never mad, never filled with anger. There had always been something else instead, something that hurt much more than harsh words would. Knowing she was disappointed with him had always been enough to make him feel like performing the only project he had left. 

With tears streaming down his cheeks he put down the pen for a while and picked up the last picture he had taken of Danijela and stroke his trembling fingers over her beautiful face.  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart… I'm so sorry…" 

He had not wanted to do this before. Not that he hadn't wanted to feel everything go away. But he hadn't wanted to leave like this. Not like a desperate addict, but as the respectable man he once had been. 

But he was too tired now, it didn't matter anymore. As long as he got out of here. 

He took the pen again and wrote _"To the one who has the bad luck of finding me" _on the envelope and put it down next to the two other simple, white envelopes already on the table, saying _"To moj obitelj"; to my family_,and the third just simply "_Abby_". 

The rope was hanging where he had hung it earlier, from a hook in the roof where his lamp usually hung, the loop big enough to fit his neck. A high chair was placed right under the rope. He wanted to be sure the jump would be final. 

With a sigh he got up from the couch. His legs were shaking and the left one hurting like never before, but he knew it wasn't because he was scared of dying, more likely because of the alcohol and everything else that shouldn't be in his blood. 

His last thought before he passed out to the music still playing was that maybe the pain in his leg was the only real way of knowing when he really was in pain inside. 

**PROLOUGE [part two] : A SIMPLE TWIST OF FATE**

Susan walked up and down the streets of Chicago in hunt for Luka's apartment. She didn't know exactly where he lived, neither had anybody still left at County and she hadn't wanted to ask Abby for the address, not wanting another confrontation about Luka in general and Abby's role in his life in particular. 

Susan was worried about Luka, and couldn't understand how Abby wasn't. He was clearly not himself. The way he looked tired, the way he way he acted out of character. People at County were gossiping about what a womanizer he had become, not noticing how his appearance changed from day to day. Sometimes he didn't even seem to be in Chicago, but somewhere else when someone talked to him, or, even worse, while trying to do his job. He had messed up a few times too many lately. It was only when the patients were kids he seemed to be able to keep himself together and do a good job – with adults he didn't seem to care at all as much. 

She had found him on the roof earlier in the week, apparently a million miles away and with a pained expression on his face. He had been pressing his hand against his left leg, angrily refusing to let her have a look. When she wouldn't leave him alone he had limped into the elevator. He had been avoiding her the rest of the day, refusing to admit the pain he apparently felt, not only in his leg. But she had seen him several times, leaning against the walls in the hospital with his eyes closed as if he was going to collapse any minute, always sighing tiredly when a trauma came rolling in and Kerry yelled at him to get moving. Through the grapevine she had heard about his latest mix up. She didn't know about what and apparently no one else had either, but still the news was all over County in two seconds. The latest was that Romano had had enough and thrown him out, but no one actually believed that.  
But it was weird that he hadn't been fired weeks ago. Anyone else would have for the mistakes he had been doing lately – she figured that Kerry must have spoken herself warm for his sake with both Romano and everybody else. Maybe because of his good hands with kids, or maybe she hoped this was a temporary laps and that he would be back to his old self soon. One could always hope of course, but it seemed to be more and more hopeless every day. 

Something was indeed wrong – she could feel it. Right before his shift ended she had seen him trying to talk to Abby about something. Herself she had been out of earshot and had only been able to follow what happened with her eyes, but not even the space between her and them in the end of the hallway had been able to hide how tired and unhappy Luka apparently was, and how stressed and jumpy Abby was. Just half an hour later his and Carter's yelling at each other outside trauma two had drawn the whole ER's attention to them – it was bad enough that two med students had to separate two of the ones they were supposed to learn skills from and that everything was witnessed by patients – even worse was that Luka who probably was responsible for the whole thing didn't seem to care any more than before. The past days he had been totally unpredictable - his appearance seemed drugged, pending from misery and pain to if not ecstasy then at least for him an unnatural and unexplainable joy.  
To her they all seemed to act way out of character, especially Luka's mood swings, the look in his eyes when he was at his lowest scared her and many with her, but when he was at his highest it was actually even worse. 

_"That's it," Carter yelled while throwing his plastic gloves in a wastebasket. "I'm going to make sure that you don't set your foot inside this ER one more time! Do you hear me," he repeated angrily when Luka didn't seemed to be touched in any way. "… by this hour tomorrow you'll be gone! Gone, never to come back!"  
Just as Abby got grip of Carter's arm and tried to calm him down Luka turned around, still not showing any signs of being upset about what Carter just had said.  
"I know," he simply said. Everybody around them jumped at his comment, but he just continued walking towards the lounge.  
She ran after him and caught up with him just as the door was about to smash in her face.  
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked angrily.  
"I'm going home," he said in a voice someone how hadn't worked with him for over a year would consider normal. But she knew it was far too light-headed to be the normal Luka.  
"What is wrong with you," she asked, not so much angry as worried anymore.  
He shrugged his shoulders as he opened and closed his locker.   
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong"  
"Oh please."   
He turned back towards her, and she could see that he was smiling again.  
"Nothing is wrong"  
"You probably just got fired and you don't care?"  
He shrugged his shoulders again, looking even less like his own self. She took a few steps closer towards him and tried to smell his breath.   
"Luka, are you drunk?" she asked with concern in her voice.   
He laughed and went through the door with her following his every step, slightly running to keep up with him. Injured leg or not, he was still faster than she was.  
"What's it you are on? Speed? Crack?"  
She waited for him to fill her in on more possible candidates for getting his mood like this, but he just turned around, waving with his arms, still smiling wider than she had ever seen him before.  
"I'm just fine, Susan." _

His smile hadn't been natural, after all times with Chloe she could tell that. It was caused by some substance, more or less illegal. It wasn't alcohol, at least not only because he never smelled of it. But everybody knew he had been drinking more than was good for him lately. He had been acting strange ever since the lockdown and it only got weirder every day. One crazy incident following another – at first they had just been laughing but then everybody one by one started to realize that this was not to play with anymore. He was a serious mess; a walking time bomb that would explode any minute. Maybe something had happened during the lockdown or even earlier; she didn't know but something must have happened. And this something apparently kept happening; the past weeks Luka easily had won everyone in the ER, including Pratt, in amounts of complaints against him. It wasn't nurses anymore: after getting him suspended for a few days they apparently had come to peace with his existance, and she hadn't found him with any mothers of patients after that incident in October; the complaints and whispers about him nowadays were about much more serious things. Things like messing up in patient care, or missing shifts – dangerous things that could cost him his job.  
Why, why, why?  
She was filled with questions no one wanted or could to answer and could as well use them as an excuse for standing at his doorstep in the middle of the night, if she'd just find the damn building.  
If what he was taking was something she was familiar with, then he wouldn't be that happy for very long. 

*** 

The sign on the door in front of her said "L. Kovac". She looked around her and understood why Abby joked about Luka's choice of neighbourhood. The place looked more like a warehouse than anything else, not really what you'd expect of a conservatively dressed and normally well-behaved and polite man like Luka. 

Shaking her head she knocked on the door, after realizing there was no such thing as a doorbell. Nothing happened. She knocked again, harder this time, thinking he hadn't heard her. Just as she stood there she realized that he could be asleep already. In that case she really shouldn't wake him up.   
But something kept her from leaving the door. She had stopped knocking and just stood there, staring at the black warehouse door in front of her. Something told her she should get in there. He needed someone to talk to, someone to tell him something else than that he was crazy. The miserable expression he had on his face between the trips to heaven told her that, even though he'd never ask for anyone to help him. 

No matter what everyone said, he deep inside still was a man too good to be miserable. 

Suddenly Susan heard music from inside the apartment. A song she recognized, but never listened to because it always depressed her. Realizing he had to be awake she started knocking again.   
"Luka!" she yelled.  
"Open the door, I want to talk to you…-"   
She realized she hadn't said who "I" was. She wasn't sure he'd recognize her voice.   
"It's Susan," she yelled and kept knocking.   
"Luka, please open up," she pleaded, and not only meaning the door.   
"He's never there when one of you wants to 'talk' to him," she suddenly heard a voice behind her say. 

Shocked and surprised she turned around, staring right at an elderly woman in a bathrobe.   
"Excuse me," Susan said; still staring without realizing it, "do you know Dr. Kovac?"   
The woman shook her head.   
"Not any more than any of you do," she said. When she saw Susan's confused look she apparently felt like explaining, and stepped a few steps closer.   
"Trust me honey, men like that aren't worth crying for." She patted Susan's arm to show that she understood, but Susan shook her head heavily in protest.   
"No, no, ma'am, you don't understand."   
"Oh?"   
The woman seemed surprised and crossed her arms over her chest in disbelief.   
"I don't?"   
"No, you don't," Susan said, feeling more like herself again, having gotten over the shock of hearing the woman's voice from out of nowhere in a dark corridor.   
"I'm _not_ involved with Dr. Kovac in any way whatsoever – I'm one of his colleagues from the hospital."   
"Oh," the woman said again, but now in a more polite voice.   
"Are you a doctor too?"   
" Yes. I'm Dr. Lewis, and I'm also a friend of Dr. Kovac's. I'm sorry I'm here so late, but I'm worried about him and need to speak  
to him"   
The woman nodded to show she understood, and held out her hand to Susan, who took it.   
"My name is Elise," she said, "but everybody call me Ellie".  
"Susan," Susan said with a smile. Ellie smiled too, and moved closer to the door.  
"He won't open…?"   
Susan turned towards her.   
"No, and I know he's there because of the music."   
Ellie listened to the song for a while.   
"He's been playing that one a lot lately," she said, a sounding a bit distant.   
"You live here?" Susan asked, only to realize what a stupid question that was.   
Ellie laughed and pointed at her hair.   
"Dr. Lewis, with all your respect, but do you really think I walk around town in a bathrobe and with curlers in my hair?"   
Susan smiled. Hearing Ellie talk made it obvious that she could not possibly be home from anywhere else than Texas – her accent only got heavier.   
"Sorry. I'm probably a bit tired," she excused herself.   
"I understand," Ellie nodded, "you doctors have the most terrible working hours, don't you? Dr. Kovac…-" she nodded towards the door "…- always leaves early and comes back late." She continued in a lower voice, so low Susan didn't hear her.  
"I like him the nights he's alone, but when he's got company… It's like he's someone else… "   
Susan nodded with a stressed smile, not listening and frankly not even trying to.   
"Well, turning daily routines around kind of comes with the job," she said, trying to keep herself from knocking. She didn't want to chitchat about her working hours or anything else right now, she had to decide whether she should stay and keep trying to reach Luka, or give up and leave.   
"If he'd only open up," she said, mostly to herself.   
"Call him," Ellie suggested.   
"I don't know his number," Susan replied stressed, realizing the idiotic in standing behind someone's door and still wanting to call him.   
"I need to talk to him," she blurted out. "I know he isn't well, but he won't talk to me!"   
"Try and knock again," Ellie said, trying to be helpful in a way Susan remembered her grandmother being.   
"Maybe he didn't hear you."   
"No, I've been knocking about a thousand times already! And he is there because I can hear the music but he won't open and I'm afraid something might have happened because he isn't well and…-" 

Ellie patted her on her arm again, with the same understanding look in her eyes as when she made her first assumption of Susan being one of Luka's girlfriends in despair.   
"You really care about him don't you?"   
Susan was a bit taken by surprise.   
"Well… I don't want to see him the way he is now," she said slowly.   
"I think I know a way to get in there," Ellie suddenly said with a wide smile. "But I'm not sure if it's really allowed," she continued.   
"How?" was Susan's only question. 

Ellie rushed back to her apartment, and Susan almost thought the lady had regretted her suggestion to help her when she came back, waving with something in her hand while apologizing.   
"My husband woke up," she said, "I had to fill him in on what is going on."   
Susan nodded, trying to figure out what Ellie was holding in her hand. When the old woman came closer she could see that the thing was a key.   
"Is that the key to Luka's apartment?" she asked breathlessly, in her excitement forgetting to call Luka Dr. Kovac.   
Ellie nodded.   
"Yes"   
"You have it…?"   
"I've got everyone's keys around here, honey. " She must have seen Susan's perplexed expression, because she hurried to explain.   
"I didn't want to let you in at first when I thought you were one of those women… We've got _way_ enough of them here." 

Susan stood and tried to keep calm while Ellie put the key in the lock. She wanted to get inside, but on the other hand she was terrified about what she might find. She didn't know why, but she had a horrible feeling and had had ever since she saw him at the roof. She didn't know what was going through his mind, but it was clearly pretty messed up.

The further Ellie opened up the door, the louder the music from inside became. This, and a distinct strong smell of alcohol made Susan press her through the door before it was fully opened, leaving Ellie a few steps behind. She took a few quick steps in the hall and could feel the awful smell sticking in her nose. She heard Ellie who had come up behind her mutter something about doctors being supposed to live as they preached others to do, but Susan didn't reply, barely even listened. 

Not anymore thinking about what she might find she almost ran into the room in front of her, the livingroom she assumed. 

The sight that met her made her heart stop for a split second. Here in the heart of the flat the smell was even stronger, pieces of glass and stains on the floor, papers and what apparently were photos overflowing the table, kitchen chairs thrown over and lying with their legs upwards. Everything was one huge mess, and with the depressing music it felt like an abandoned dope.   
She turned right at first, but could hear Ellie who turned left, scream in shock. As on commando she turned towards her and gasped herself.   
No wonder he hadn't answered the door. 

"Luka!" she screamed and threw her handbag on the floor as she ran to him.  
"My God, Luka…" 

He was lying on the floor in an awkward position, as if he had fallen without control. A small amount of blood surrounded his right hand; a piece of glass had crept inside his hand when he fell on it. His skin was pale and his head was turned slightly upwards, as if he had been looking up when he lost his balance. 

She didn't notice the above Luka hanging unused rope. 

Susan threw herself down next to his body and saw his chest slowly rise and sink.  
"Thank you," she whispered to the higher forces and bent over him to start searching for his pulse. As she leaned over him she could feel his breath on her cheek, the breath was weak but the alcohol smell was strong. Malt whiskey.   
"Great," she nervously muttered while trying to wake him up, "how much have you been drinking?" she asked, almost waiting for him to answer.  
"Is he…?" Ellie began, sounding as if she was going to faint any minute.  
Susan turned her head to check on the old woman; she was standing in the livingroom door, leaning against the doorframe. Her face was very pale and her hands trembled. Susan quickly shook her head.   
"No. He's breathing. But you have to call …-"   
She didn't have time to say "the ambulance" or even "911" before Ellie interrupted her in a spooky voice while looking slightly above Susan.   
"So he didn't succeed then."   
"What…?" 

She shook her head as to show further more that she didn't understand what Ellie meant when she saw Ellie gazing towards the ceiling. As in slow motion she turned up her head herself, and saw the rope. The sight of it made her open her mouth and her lungs formed a scream, but it didn't come out. Thoughts rushed through her head and the only logical and sane one was "911. County. NOW!"   
"Call 911," she yelled and started searching for Luka's pulse again, as if the realization of him not only being drunk but also suicidal would make him sicker right now. It was still there, but the breathing had gotten weaker; while Ellie rushed to the phone and dialled the number it only fell faster and faster, and when she hung up Susan couldn't see if his chest rose or not. 

She was terrified. She had no equipment with her that would help him breathe, and only the semi-prone position wouldn't get him back. 

After a quick look at him she rose up and desperately started going through the apartment in hunt for anything that could help her. Suddenly she had remembered Abby telling her that Luka was involved in Doctors Without Borders and had been taking care of tourists at the hotel he had been staying his first months in Chicago – there was a possibility he had an old fashioned doctor's bag somewhere, and maybe, just maybe, that would include something useable. 

As she rushed through the area around the couch her eyes caught a glimpse of a few small bottles of pills on the table. She picked them up and studied the etiquettes. Valium, Vicodin, Rohypnol.   
"Damn!" she swore out aloud. "Damn!"   
She quickly shook the bottles only realize all of them were almost empty. Of course he probably hadn't taken all of them tonight, but probably far too many. These combined with even half of the whiskey he must have drunk to collapse like that…- He really knew what he was doing, she helplessly thought.   
"Can I do something?" she heard the Texas accent from the door. Susan looked up at Ellie who didn't seem any less like fainting now after calling 911.   
"Go outside and wait for the ambulance," she said as she rushed back to Luka on the floor. 

There was nothing else to do. One could only hope. 

  
**PROLOUGE [part three] :** **MIDNIGHT AT COOK COUNTY GENERAL**

  
She didn't know just how long she was sitting there on Luka's livingroom floor, trying to keep his airways free. She kept talking to him all the time, and squeezed his good hand so he through the unconsciousness would feel that she was there, that help was on its way. 

But she doubted all along that he wanted any. No one swallowed a whole pharmacy and hung a rope in the ceiling if they wanted to get found and helped in time. The thought of how close he had been to hanging himself, and that if she had had left when she was about to, he would have succeeded, as Ellie said. 

When the ambulance arrived and the familiar paramedics rushed inside she realized that the sirens and all the action had woken up most of the building. As they intubated him right there on the floor people were standing in the door looking over the whole mess, and when they carried him out to the ambulance on the gurney the same people followed them. They weren't many since the building actually was a former warehouse and not an apartment building, but still enough of strangers to make Susan annoyed. As they climbed into the ambulance she heard a few very unnecessary comments on Luka's origin and how his mental health apparently depended on that. 

Everything went fast. They drove in high speed through Chicago and she yelled orders left and right, repeating the words "County, not Mercy!" to the driver a thousand times before he did as she said.   
The doors to the ER swung open as the gurney was pulled inside, Susan ran next to it and yelled toward the admit desk  
"Someone! Now!"   
Her voice was trembling in desperation as she heard the paramedics call out his blood pressure. It was dropping fast – too fast.   
Kerry looked up from the computer screen and came running towards them.   
"Susan?" she asked surprised.   
"What are you doing here, I thought you were off an hour a…-"   
Before she finished "ago" she saw Luka on the gurney.   
"My God, what happened," she yelled as they ran towards trauma two.   
"He tried to kill himself," Susan replied "Valium, whiskey, Vicodin…- he was about to hang himself when I found him!"   
"Where?"   
"His apartment."   
"You went home to him?" Kerry asked, frowning. Susan nodded and Kerry spotted Carter and Abby across the room.   
"Carter! Get here!" 

The couple came running and the scream Abby let out when she saw the patient was probably loud enough to reach the OR above. All the attention of the people in the ER was drawn to them as they pulled the gurney inside trauma one and Abby screamed on top of her lungs. Gallant and Chen came running, and Carter yelled to Deb to get Abby out of there. 

*** 

Abby stood outside trauma one with Jing-Mei on her left and Gallant on her right. Her heart was beating fast and she repeated a mantra inside her head.   
"He'll be OK… " She whispered. "He'll be OK…"   
Everytime she said the words she felt relieved, as if just saying them would make everything fine. But as soon as the words had left her system her heart beating speeded up again and the ache in her stomach was back. 

She met Carter's eyes through the window. He looked at her and slightly shook his head before he turned back. That made her cry even harder and she tried to run to the window but Jing-Mei's arm held her back. She could hear her friend from 'Girl's club' and Gallant trying to assure her the same things that she repeated in her head, but when they said it, it didn't help.   
She had caught a glimpse of Luka before they forced her to turn around, and then she turned back Lydia had closed the curtains. 

He had been so pale… If she didn't know better, she would have thought he was dead. But he couldn't be. It couldn't end this way.

The last thing she said to him in this life could not be "go to hell, Luka!" 

_"Abby… I need to talk to you…"_  
_She turned around, towards his voice.   
"What?"   
She had actually been surprised herself when she heard herself. She hadn't meant to sound so cold, almost mean. Bitchy.   
She could see he was surprised too; he looked almost like his old, always concerned self before he sighed and got the tired look back on his face.   
"I…-"   
He interrupted himself and sighed again as he always did when he didn't find the words.   
"I'm…." Still nothing, he dragged his hand through his hair desperately looking for words, and she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. Just as he was about to try again she noticed that he once again interrupted himself, this time looking slightly above and behind her. When she turned around she saw Carter standing there.   
The look on Luka's face was clear as daylight to her. He wanted Carter to leave so he could say what he wanted between four eyes. She was about to ask her boyfriend to leave them, alone for a few minutes when she stopped herself.   
Why should she? They were a couple now, and if Luka wanted her to know something, then he could as well say it in front of Carter. So she told him that.   
Luka sighed again, and gave her another look, even more obvious, almost pleading. He practically begged her not to do this, but she still did. Still with the new bitchy attitude she snapped that if he was going to say he was happy for her again he could as well let it be, because she already knew it and didn't need to be told things several times to understand them. He said that it was not what he wanted to say, and started to say something else when she heard Carter behind her say that if there was something he felt like telling them he should do it or then shut up.   
"I would really like to speak to Abby alone, Carter", Luka said, apparently after realizing looks didn't kill. Abby could feel how Carter's grip around her waist tightened as his voice sharpened and got a tone she usually didn't like. But now she didn't bother.   
"But you won't be able to do that," he said as if his words actually meant "she's with me now".   
She saw that Luka once again tried to remove Carter from the surface of the earth with his eyes, and he started to say something that began with "you don't…-".   
Then she simply said it. She simply shook her head and pointed loosely somewhere across the hospital, as if where she wished him was there.   
"Go to hell, Luka. Just go to hell." _

The curtains were closed, but the door was swung open by Pratt who rushed inside and came back just as quickly. She heard Carter yelling something about them not needing the whole staff inside the room, and that he should get out of there before he was kicked out. Between John yelling the familiar sound of the electrical shocks being charged filled her ears, and a few seconds later she heard how the hundreds of volts went right through Luka's body. She heard Carter demanding Lydia to charge one level higher, and then three more shocks. Still nothing. 

The voices inside that had been intense all along now rose to new heights. It was Susan and Carter arguing and Kerry trying to make peace between them. She could only make out a few things; Susan yelling that they had to keep trying, Carter angrily replying that if swallowing a whole pharmacy wasn't considered wanting to die, then what was? Apparently Kerry went on Susan path because she angrily shouted something, pointing at the shocks, and then another one went off. Followed by another, and another… 

*** 

Through the now open door Abby suddenly saw Carter looking at the clock while holding up the shocks, closing and opening his tired eyes. Susan and Kerry stood on the opposite side of the gurney, not moving one inch. 

He cleared his throat. 

*** 

"No! Not the clock, Carter! Please, not the clock…." she cried, slipping away from Deb's grip and towards the door.   
"No! No!!!" 

His eyes met hers, and suddenly he couldn't say the words. The tears in her eyes, how Deb and Gallant tried to hold her back from rushing inside… - he couldn't do it.   
So he turned around and placed the shocks on Luka's chest one more time.   
"Clear" he said tiredly.   
He did this for her.   
Susan and Kerry stepped aside again, Susan with tears streaming down her cheeks, Kerry looking like the Chief of ER should when one of her doctors were lying on a gurney with a tube in his throat after being shocked for forty minutes.   
The shock went off, but they didn't rush back to their places as all the times before.   
How many times had they done this now? How many shocks were there on forty minutes? A hundred? A hundred and fifty? Too many, at least. 

He exchanged looks with Kerry who swallowed hard and bit her lower lip. She looked at Abby outside, and at all the other staff surrounding her. While they had been shocking they had all gathered there, looking inside. Everybody was in earshot, listening to every word being said. He wanted Kerry to be the one to stop. He couldn't – she had to be the one to put and end.   
She looked back at him, now also she with tears in her eyes. 

"No," she said and shook her head.   
"No." 

He felt the tears burning behind his own eyes, but he blinked them away. He put down the shocks and pulled off his gloves. Abby stood outside the room as a statue, just staring inside, not understanding what had happened. Kerry pulled off her gloves too, and the sound of the plastic gloves smashing to the floor and Susan's tears were the only sound that filled the almost empty ER. 

It was the only sound until the monitor beeped as the rhythm came back. 

**_Author's comment:_**_ OK, this third part was a bit 'off', considering what the others are and the rest will be like, but somehow I still like it. Pretty short, since am not a medical profession I try not to write so much about things I don't know anything about… _


	2. A few hours of darkness

**Author's comments – **here the REAL story actually begins, having gotten past the prologue(s). Sorry they turned out to be so many and maybe a bit messy, but I felt it needed! _(To be honest – considering all the hours I have spent working on the first part it would have been a serious waste not publishing it ;)_

**CHAPTER 1 : A FEW HOURS OF DARKNESS **

A silent rain wrapped its arms around Chicago, just like Susan wrapped Haleh's extra cardigan over her shoulders. She touched the window with her fingertips, and let them leave traces on the misted over glass.  
  
A sudden sound from the bed in the middle of the room interrupted her thoughts. She instantly turned around, only to realize that her mind once again was playing tricks on her. An old branch of one of the trees outside broke and fell to the ground as she went back to the hard hospital chair she had been sitting on for hours.  
The clock above the door said 3:08. It was about three hours ago since she had helped Carter with the extubation and nodded when he had said that they needed the trauma room. She had helped him to take the gurney up in the elevator and when he went back to the ER she sat down at this chair. People dropped in every once in a while, asked her something or as Gallant just stood there a few minutes before they went back down to the cosy chaos.  
  
Still no change. After they had gotten the sinus rhythm back the monitor had been making the same, rhythmic sounds. Stable and secure, yes. Annoying, very much.  
She took his hand and squeezed it gently.  
"Don't you think it'd be time to wake up now?" she asked him as if he was her troublesome teenager who wouldn't get out of bed in the mornings.  
The monitor beeping was the only answer she got, and she sighed. She was getting headache in lack of caffeine, but at least Luka seemed to be pretty comfortable now. He was breathing on his own and his vitals were if not normal then at least good, but he still hadn't woken up a single time. She had been looking straight at him all the time except for those minutes in front of the window, and was surprised over how peaceful he looked. He didn't look like someone who had tried to kill himself; he looked as if he just were sleeping a very needed good night's sleep. Just like Chloe used to look when she had been stabilized the hospital after an overdose.  
"You have certainly managed to cause some chaos", Carter dryly had said to Luka in the elevator on their way up, and she couldn't anything else than agree, although she knew Carter was just upset over what Luka thought would be his last words to Abby. It had been some night - that was for sure. It hadn't been enough with the drama outside and especially inside trauma one, no, -it was when they everyone except Kerry who still was checking some test results stood outside the room things got really started to happen.  
  
_"Dr. Lewis," she suddenly heard a voice next to her say. She turned around from where she had been leaning against the door to the trauma room and saw Ellie, now fully dressed and with curly hair standing there, slightly behind Gallant.  
"What?"  
She could see that Ellie was holding something in her hand – three small, neat envelopes.  
"I thought you might want these," the old woman said as she came forward and gave the letters to Susan who took a brief look at them.  
"What are they?"  
"I found them on the floor," Ellie said, not answering the question. "You see, Dr. Lewis, I went back to the apartment to lock the door so that no one of those wolves I call my neighbours would get inside…"  
Susan could see that the others surrounding them, especially Pratt, had a hard time not smiling to widely at the new participate in the drama. Without her even saying anything funny Ellie still had something around her that made everybody smile. Maybe it was the friendly sounding accent together with her at first sight pretty strict attitude, or then her weird taste in clothes. Right now she was wearing a knitted scarf in all the colours of the rainbow over her brown and white skirt and pink sweater.  
"… I brought you your coat too," she finished the story of how she had gone back up to Luka's flat, dropped the key on the livingroom floor as she saw Susan's coat lying there, and then when she picked it up, seen the letters underneath.  
"Thank you," Susan said and reached for the white winter coat.  
Carter and Abby were standing slightly behind Ellie who had become everybody's centre of attention, and Susan could read in Carter's face that he wondered who the heck this was. Abby seemed to recognize her though, looking nervous.  
"She's Luka's neighbour," Susan said and nodded towards Ellie. "Mrs Jones here helped me to get inside Luka's apartment." The others nodded, but Ellie shook her head.  
"But I almost didn't," she said turned to the others. "If Dr. Lewis hadn't made clear to stupid old me that she wasn't one of those women I'd never…-"  
"No harm done, mrs Jones," Chen interrupted her with a soft pat on her arm. Susan gave Jing-Mei a grateful look for stopping Ellie's ramblings before they got even more out of line.  
"Maybe we should…-" Carter began, she could see that also he was embarrassed for Luka's sake. But they never got to hear what he was about to suggest since Ellie once again started talking, still turned to Susan.  
"But I was so sure you were one of all those women," she said, obviously still not realizing this was neither the time nor the place. Susan sighed; feeling even more uncomfortable and she could see that Abby did the same, trying to concentrate on the white ceiling. Chen tried to say something to Ellie again, but it didn't work this time either.  
"It was so long ago he had someone nice," she sighed, almost as if she was waiting for the others to agree.  
"That nurse was nice, but that ended so sadly… he was never really himself after that…"  
  
Here Susan heard a stifle sound and then she saw how Abby managed to get out of Carter's grip and ran towards the bathroom with her hands covering her mouth. Carter gave Ellie a withering look and snapped "Thank you!" at her before rushing after Abby. He caught up with her only seconds before she threw up on the floor right in front of the ladies room.  
Susan exchanged a horrified look with Chen before she and Pratt practically dragged Ellie towards the chairs and away from the trauma room. Deeply sighing and heavily leaning back against the door she at first didn't even notice that Gallant still was standing there, apparently also he pretty shaken. She realized that she wasn't sure if he was aware of Abby and Luka's history, but assumed that if he hadn't been, then at least he was now. _

_A few minutes passed, maybe five, could have been ten, but neither she nor Gallant moved from the corridor. They didn't speak to each other, and when she opened her tired eyes she saw that all his attention was turned towards what happened inside the room. Or what didn't happen, more likely. Kerry had gone to see another patient a while ago, and the only one left was Luka on the gurney. She was just about to go inside the room when Carter and Abby came back. Abby seemed calmer now, but she was holding on to Carter's hand as if he was the only thing stopping her from falling.  
"How are you feeling," Susan asked her as Abby sat down on a chair at the opposite wall. Abby shrugged her shoulders, not looking at Susan.  
"Anything new?" Carter asked nodding towards the room.  
"No."  
"At least it's not worse."  
She nodded, feeling that they were avoiding the real subject.  
"What were those letters," he said after a few minutes of silence.  
"I don't know…" she said, although she was still holding them in her hand she had forgotten all about them. She took the first one and looked at it. There was something written on the envelope in Luka's handwriting, if possible even more hard to read than usually. She frowned when she tried to read it.  
"What does it say?"  
"To moj obitelj. Whatever that means."  
Carter shrugged his shoulders and took a few steps towards her.  
"What about the others?" She took a look at the two letters left, and froze when she saw what they said.  
"To the one who has the bad luck of finding me," she read out aloud, looking straight at Carter, a bit frightened. She hadn't realized before what kind of letters these were.  
"The last one," Carter said, sounding as if he had a good clue of what it said, but didn't want it to be true. Susan looked down at it, and then at the couple in front of her.  
"…Abby"  
Carter sighed.  
"Great." He reached for the letter, she gave it to him and he held it out to Abby who shook her head.  
"You should take it"  
She still just shook her head.  
"He obviously wanted you to read it."  
"And I can't! You read," she said as the first words to leave her lips since the drama with the electric shocks earlier. Carter shook his head.  
"No, Abby – I can't do that."  
"Read it!" she yelled angrily. Carter looked at Susan and Gallant, both feeling uncomfortable but not saying anything.  
"Dr. Lewis, maybe we should…-" Gallant said and nodded towards the chairs where Chen still was talking to Ellie. Susan nodded and took a few steps towards him, but Abby shook her head even more than before.  
"No! You stay here, both of you!"  
"Abby, are you sure…"  
"Stay!"  
Susan surrendered and went back to the door. After exchanging a look with Carter who he even in situations as this saw as his supervisor, Gallant did the same.  
  
Feeling like an intruder Carter slowly opened the envelope. He took one last look at Abby before he wrapped up the letter and started reading in a monotonous voice. Every now and then he had to stop to double and triple check the words as they were hard to read and several of them wrongly spelled. _

_'Dear Abby, _

_I'm not going to make this a long and boring letter about how tragic my life is. That would be no use.  
When you read this I am gone forever – I just want you to know some things.  
  
Nothing I have done tonight is your fault. You have been the only light in my life for several years now, but unfortunately that is not enough anymore. It is not your fault things turned out the way they did. Only I am to blame for that. I hate myself for what I have become and don't want any more people to suffer because of me. You know what I have become, everybody knows. And I hate it. _

_Don't remember me for what I became. Remember me as the man I once was, not the man who hurt you like I did.  
I'm sorry for everything, Abby.  
You are a very special person. Be happy with Carter. I know you will be. _

_Volem te, Abby.   
  
You know what it means.' _

He mustn't have been in his right mind when he wrote that. She knew he hadn't been - no one who wrote suicide letters was. The letter was horrible, short but still way too personal. It had been terrible to stand there, on Abby's demand having to listen to Luka's apologies for what she had been told were things he had said many months ago when they broke up. Neither she, Gallant nor Carter should have heard those things. They had been between Luka and Abby and should never have come to anyone else's knowledge. She could see that Carter felt bad about reading it, he was reading fast and in a voice unlike his own.  
Right then she hadn't understood that he was upset - angry. 

_Tears streamed down Abby's face as Carter was finished reading.  
"What does it mean?"  
She looked up, surprised and tear eyed.  
"What?"  
"Volem te," Carter said with annoyance in his voice. "What does it mean?"  
She sighed and tried to put herself together. This was too much. God damn Luka for doing this.  
"It…-"  
"It means 'I love you', doesn't it," they suddenly heard Gallant's voice interrupting Abby.  
Carter swallowed hard, trying not to loose his temper.  
"Does it?"  
"Does it?!" he repeated again when Abby didn't answer.  
God damn him. God damn him! Didn't he know that she had wanted to hear those words eighteen months ago? Not now. Certainly not now.  
Finally she nodded, the tears stopping her from seeing clearly.  
"Great," Carter said the second time that night and crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Ain't it just freaking great!"  
"But I didn't know! John, you have to believe me, I didn't know!" She tried to hug him but he stepped away, and she cried even more.  
"You have to believe me!! I didn't know," she screamed, once again loud enough to disturb Romano and Elizabeth.  
  
_Susan felt a cold wind sweeping through her as she thought of Abby's desperate cries. No one was used to see her act like that, actually she had never even seen Abby cry – not even after the attack. It wasn't a pleasant sight either - nothing had been pleasant this night. The thought of for how long Luka must have been planning this, for how long he had known that December 1st would be his last day – it really freaked her out. 

_"Of course you did," Susan suddenly heard herself say. "Of course you knew."  
"No!" Abby cried, "No! I didn't! Please, you have to believe me!"  
She was at the edge of hysteria, but Susan felt nothing. She looked at her devastated, crying friend, the only girlfriend she had had for years – and she felt nothing.  
"Susan…! I didn't…! Please," she once again cried, "I didn't mean for this to happen…!" _

_"Of course you didn't," they once again heard Gallant's calming voice. "It was no one's fault," he continued, turned to Susan who looked away and went back inside the room.  
  
_She remembered thinking that it was probably something he had learned at his psych rotation, something you should say to hysterical ex-girlfriends, but of course she knew it was the right thing to say. She knew it wasn't Abby's fault; that it was just as Gallant and Luka himself as well had said. Still she had barely been able to keep herself from screaming something about Abby not caring and not noticing the signs. She thanked God she had managed to keep quiet, if she hadn't Abby and Carter's argument in the lounge later probably had been even worse. But as she stood there next to the gurney in the trauma room the anger that had been growing inside her for several weeks started to bubble up. What had he done to deserve a life like this? To loose both his children and his wife at such an early age and then coming here, only having tragedies and disappointments. No one could deserve to have this bad karma. 

Another wave of tiredness hit her, and she felt like leaning her head against Luka's chest and fall asleep like that. Realizing it probably would give anyone who came inside the wrong assumptions and only result in even more gossiping she turned around to look for something else, still holding his hand in hers.  
  
There was no such thing as an extra pillow, the only thing she wanted right now, in sight. Of course she could leave, maybe she even should since she wasn't Luka's family.  
But there was no one else who could sit with him, and she didn't want to leave him alone. Tiredly sighing she turned back to him. His black hair looked so soft against the white pillow, and not really thinking she reached out with her hand and gently caressed it. It was soft. Soft, and very thick. It fell over his eyes when he was lying down like this, and she tried to stroke it away even though it hardly was bothering him. She leaned her tired head against her own shoulder and took a close look at him. The still very pale skin, the ruffled and probably not really newly washed dark hair. He really was a man of contrasts – the almost Latin colours meeting his sharp lines, how his appearance seemed strict at the edge of cold, but how it was warmed up by the soft accent when he spoke. She had never heard him speak Croatian except for that Hamlet recitation at the sexual harassment seminar, but she supposed his voice was very different when he didn't have to think about the grammar and structure of every sentence. His smiles were so rare, and lately they had been either faked or saved for one of "those women". She smiled sadly at him and stroke her hand over his hair once again. She genuinely hoped that it wasn't too late for him to pick up what was left of his life and put it together.

As she sat there she suddenly felt someone's eyes on her back. She turned around, not letting go of Luka's hand.  
Abby was standing in the half open door. Her eyes were red and puffy and she looked more tired than Susan felt, also she wearing an extra cardigan over her shoulders. As if she still was freezing she had wrapped her arms around herself.  
"Any changes?" she asked quietly.  
Susan shook her head.  
"No. But Carter extubated him an hour ago."  
"I know. John told me."  
Susan once again noticed the fact that Abby always seemed to use Carter's first name when she was tired, upset or frightened. She didn't know if it was intentionally or not, but she suspected that it wasn't. It was kind of cute, actually.  
They looked at each other for a while, neither of them moving. Abby was just about to come up with some excuse for leaving without even coming inside when Susan remembered something she had been meaning to ask.  
"Does he have any realtives that speak English?" she asked Abby who tiredly shrugged her shoulders.  
"I don't know. Why?"  
"Don't you think they should be told?"  
The brunette in the door shrugged her shoulders again.  
"I guess."  
"Are you sure you don't know any?"  
Abby was quiet for a minute, looking down on her shoes.  
"I think…- I think that his brother speaks English. At least a bit."  
Susan nodded.  
"Do you know his name?"  
"Dubravko. Or something similar."  
Susan nodded again.  
"I'll try to reach him."  
Abby took another close look at her white sneakers before she looked up.  
"See you tomorrow."  
"You don't wanna come inside?" Susan couldn't help that she felt a bit surprised when Abby shook her head.  
"Look – I can leave, I'm sure you'd …-"  
"No, please don't. I'm probably the last person he needs right now."  
"But he…-"  
Abby sighed.  
"Loves me, right?"  
Susan nodded, almost embarrassed over how Luka's love life seemed to be the top subject this night. Abby looked down again, playing with her fingers as if she hoped a cigarette miraculously would appear.  
"That's what he thinks," she said, crossing her arms over her chest to control her fingers. "But we both know that it would never have worked out. It was for the best that we ended it."  
To Susan Abby didn't sound as sure on what she had said as she wanted her to. She didn't know why she was so concerned about this all of a sudden – maybe it was her old feelings for Carter that haunted her, or then she just didn't want to see Abby like this. Sure she seemed to love Carter, but there still was something in her voice that Susan didn't want there.  
"Are you sure about that?"  
Abby tried to smile normally but feared that it looked even more fake than it felt.  
"Yeah. After all; all we did was fight."  
That wasn't true, she knew it and she hoped that Luka wasn't able to hear her. It felt like ripping a big piece of her heart out by letting out those words, but it was the best she could do right now. She was frightened, scared to death of entering that room and seeing him lay there, unable to reach.  
_"Volem te, Abby. You know what it means….  
_Volem te. Sure she knew what it meant. She was surprised that Gallant did, but her it had never passed by. She remembered the night he first said those words to her as if it was yesterday. She didn't remember her reply, though. Probably because there hadn't been any. Maybe she had kissed him, smiled at him or slept with him. Probably all of them, but not done what he had wanted.  
She had been trying to form a reply in her head for several weeks, but never dared to say it out aloud. Then when they started fighting over her mother, Carter and her med school application she had almost been relieved – she wouldn't have to say it after all.  
  
Susan let out a small sigh of relief as she heard Abby say that.  
"And you love Carter, right?"  
Abby desperately tried to keep up the 'I'm-totally-fine-although-my-ex-just-tried-to-kill-himself-and-before-that-said-he-still-loves-me-act'.  
"Yeah… sure, I do."  
Susan smiled slightly and nodded.  
"Good."  
"Yeah… Well, John just ended his shift and I was off two hours ago, so…"  
Susan nodded for what felt like the thousand time.  
"I call if there's any change."  
"Yeah…Well…See you…"  
She gave Susan the best smile she could come up with, left the door and when she was sure she was out of Susan's sight she ran towards the elevator as if the little up and down moving cabin was her only hope of life. She threw herself inside it as soon as the doors opened and pressed the button with the sign "Emergency Room" so hard that she feared she had broken it before the elevator finally started to move and left the ICU. 


	3. A rude awakening

**Author's comment:** First of all, thank you so much for reviewing, and please keep doing it! It means a lot!  
VjeraNadaLjubav **– **Feel free to archive this story on your site, just send me a link when it's done! I've read several of your stories, and I like them a lot, by the way (am a lazy reviewer myself – have to get better at it!) Am also going to consider the beta-reading offer!  
  
Just for the records: this story will certainly not be anything else than lusan – definitely not luby! Used to be a fan of that pairing, but have changed my mind a bit. Sorry all lubies… It was nice in season 7, but I think it's kind of impossible now. I'm not a carby fan, and won't write that kind of stories, but I don't hate them (as I used to – I admit…)  
  
**This is probably not the best chapter I've written, not very long but it's one of those that has to be written…  
  
CHAPTER TWO : A RUDE AWAKENING **

The sound of Abby's running steps towards the elevator faded away, and they were alone again. 

Susan turned all her attention back to Luka who still showed no signs of waking up. The wall clock said 3:28,  
and she groaned. Anyone who came in could assume whatever he or she pleased – she didn't care. So she buried her face in his chest, still holding his hand. Soon the so annoying monitor sound started to sound very far away.  
  
***  
  
A gentle pat on her shoulder forced her back to the uncomfortable chair. The familiar hospital smell was sticking in her nose and she decided to ignore whoever there was behind her. She pressed her eyes together and desperately tried to catch up with the sleep that seemed to fade away more and more. But the monitor sound became louder again and she heard Kerry's voice.  
"Susan," she said and stroke her hand over the younger doctor's hair.  
"What?" Susan muttered and slowly turned around on the chair.  
She tried to focus her tired eyes on her boss, but it was hard. If she felt this sleep hung over, then what would Luka feel like when he finally woke up?  
"Go home. Get some sleep. Someone else can take over here."  
"Like who?" Susan asked, ignoring everything but the last part of what Kerry had said.  
"Abby, maybe"  
"Can't. She's keeping herself busy fighting with Carter"  
Kerry sighed.  
"I'm sure someone would be glad to do it. Maybe…-" She stopped to think. If not Abby, then who? Chen? No. One of the other nurses? No, no. Carter? Definetly not.  
"There you see," Susan sighed as if she had read Kerry's thoughts. "There's no one. Unless you want a med student to sit here."  
"That's an idea."  
"No, it's not! Look, Abby gave me the name of Luka's brother in Croatia. I'm going to try and track him down, maybe he's able to get here."  
"Good."  
Kerry took another chair from the corner and sat down next to Susan.  
"Go and make a few calls, have a cup of coffee. I'll stay here for a while."  
"Are you sure? Don't you have to be down there?" Susan asked, nodding towards the ER below them.  
"If they call for me I'll get someone else here."  
Susan gave her a searching look before nodding.  
"Thank you." 

As she crossed the ER on her way out to get some air she got totally bombed with questions by the rest of the staff. Was Luka OK? Had he woken up or was he still unconscious? Had she been up at the ICU all night? She answered all the questions ten times each- yes, he was somewhat OK, yes he was still unconscious but would wake up sooner or later, yes she had spent the night up there, and finally, no Pratt – not of **that** reason. When she finally sat down at the counter at Doc Magoo's with her desired cup of coffee she let out a deep sigh of exhaustion. She took a few sips of the warm beverage and felt how her brain slowly started to catch up with the world.  
  
**Zagreb, Croatia  
  
**He groaned when he heard the phone. Who the hell was calling in the middle of the night? He could feel his wife move next to him, and not wanting to wake her up any more than the ringing already had he carefully rose up and rushed out in the hall to pick up the phone.

"What?" he asked impolitely in Croatian.  
The line wasn't very good because of all the noise in the background in the other end. Thinking he hadn't made himself clear to the person in the other end he repeated his question, if possible even less politely.  
"Dubravko Kovac?" he heard a woman's voice. With that pronouncing, certainly not a local.  
"Yes," he said in a more normal voice, frowning. Who was this?  
The woman took a deep breath, before she started talking.  
"My name is Susan Lewis and I'm a doctor at County General in Chicago…-"  
"Jesus," he thought and quickly dragged his free hand through his hair, staring at the wall in front of him where his mother had posted a note with his brother's address. He would never have remembered the long name of the hospital if he hadn't been staring right at it – Cook County General, Chicago, Illinois, USA - all in Luka's barely readable handwriting that, according to Natalia, was very similar to his own.  
"Chicago?" he interrupted her. "County General?"  
"Yes," the woman said.  
He tried to place her name. Susan Lewis? Somewhere deep inside his memory a bell rang. Was it _her_? No, her last name hadn't been Lewis. Something on "L" but longer, and with "heart" or similar in the end.  
"Has something happened?" he heard himself ask, still trying to place the woman's name.  
She sighed again.  
"Yes, I'm afraid so. Mr. Kovac, your brother…-"  
What she said drowned in the sound of his parents' bedroom door being opened and his mother's loud voice asking what was going on, apparently not realizing that it still was in the middle of the night and that she would wake up not only her daughter in-law but also her grandchildren if she didn't calm down. She came up to him, still asking a hundred questions at the same time. Who had the nerve to call at this hour? Why had they? Why was he speaking English? Was it someone from America? Was it Luka, but why wasn't he speaking Croatian to his brother?  
When he refused to answer she patted his arm to get his attention. He took a few steps backwards and held up his hand and gave her a hard look as to show her she should be quiet.  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Lewis, could you take that again?" he sighed, thinking that his two-year old daughters were easier to have a conversation with than his mother.  
Him neglecting to answer her didn't sit well with his mother who even louder demanded him to tell her what was going on. He had to put his hand against his free ear to be able to concentrate on what he was told.  
"Luka is here at the intensive care unit."  
"What?!"  
"He came in last night with a serious Valium overdose. He had been mixing pills with alcohol and…-"  
"But he would never do that," Dubravko interrupted Susan "Luka is a doctor, he knows that it's dangerous. There must be some kind of mistake." He heard that he sounded close to desperate, but he couldn't help it. His heart beat fast and his throat felt dry. This was a mistake - this had to be a mistake! How many times hadn't he heard Luka warn people of mixing pills with alcohol? He would never do it himself. Never.  
"I know this can be hard to understand, believe me Mr. Kovac – I…-"  
"No! You don't understand! Luka is a doctor and he would never…- He knows it's dangerous and I know him – he would never… - he doesn't even drink that much! He used to smoke, but he doesn't do that anymore, hasn't for years! And he doesn't use any pills, from where would he…-" He was talking fast and without thinking of anything else than that this was a mistake, Luka would never do something like this and whoever this doctor thought she was, calling this time of the day – she was wrong.  
"Mr. Kovac…-"  
"Dubravko"  
"Dubravko, I have known Luka for over a year, and I have never seen him like this. He has been depressed and lonely for a long time, everybody here have noticed it but we have not been able to help him…-"  
Once again he felt the need to interrupt her.  
"But you are supposed to be doctors," he yelled "weren't you supposed to know how to help him?!"  
"We tried. But we didn't know just how far he was going to carry it."  
Dubravko gasped. Jesus… He closed his eyes.  
"He… he tried to… kill himself, didn't he…?" The words came to him, everything was crystal clear, but he couldn't get them out.  
"Yes… I'm sorry Dubravko, but yes, Luka did try to kill himself."  
"But he didn't succeed…?"  
"No. No, he didn't. We got him here in time, and he pulled through even though it seemed bad for a while. He is breathing on his own and his vitals are normal – that means his heart beat and other life necessary functions are good, or at least fully working."  
"Is he awake? Did he tell you to call me? Can I talk to him?"  
"No. He is still unconscious, and we don't know when he'll wake up."  
"But he will, won't he?"  
"Yes."  
She took a deep breath.  
"Dubravko, I don't know what your situation is right now, but if you or anyone else in your family has any possibility at all to come here, I think it would mean a lot. I fully understand if it's not an option, but…-"  
"I will be there. I'll take the next possible flight." He said it, and then he started to think about if it was possible. Hell – possible or not, he was going. Luka needed him, more than ever. If he only wasn't so damn stubborn, and would ask for help before things had to take turns like these…  
"Good," she said.  
  
She explained what he should do and whom to ask for when he arrived, and then she left him alone to take care of his now almost hysterically yelling mother. The only English she knew was "thank you" and "goodbye", but even though she was a lot, none of those things were stupid and judging from the tone in his voice she had understood that something bad had happened. 

*** 

Susan put down the phone with a small sigh. It was never pleasant to give families news like these, and especially not over the phone with thousands of miles between them.  
She walked up to the ICU room door and was surprised, despite knowing better than to be, to see Gallant and not Kerry on the chair. He had pulled it slightly backward and was not so close to the bed as to the window.  
He saw her questioning look.  
"A trauma came in, Dr. Weaver was called down," he said explaining and closed the 500 pages book he had been reading.  
She nodded.  
"OK. I can take over now."  
He rose up from the chair and met her as she walked inside the room.  
"I guess there has been no changes," she said as she sat down and pulled the chair slightly forward, starting to search for Luka's hand still turned to Gallant who shook his head.  
"He moved a little once, but nothing else. But that's a good sign, right?"  
She nodded, smiling.  
"Yes, it is. And thank you so much for doing this – it must have been a bit weird for you."  
"No problem"  
"You're here to serve, right?" she laughed.  
He laughed and lifted his hand in a salute.  
"Yes m'am." He started to walk down the corridor, but she called him back.  
"Gallant!"  
He looked inside again.  
"How are things with Abby and Carter?" She had been a bit worried all day considering the yells coming out from the lounge last night, but the smile on Gallant's face relieved her.  
"All over each other. They kissed and made up first thing in the morning."  
"Good," she smiled. "It would have been a bit weird here otherwise, don't you think?"  
He nodded with a smile, and as he left again she squeezed Luka's hand.  
"I called your brother," she said softly to him. "Dubravko is coming. He was very worried about you when I told him what happened."  
As usual he showed no signs of understanding or even listening, but she still thought he did. Deciding not to make him feel guiltier than she thought he already felt she ended the story of her phone call to Croatia; Dubravko would fill him in on that when he got there. Instead she just sat there, quietly stroking his hair away from his closed eyes as the wall clock ticked away another afternoon. 


	4. On the third day

**Author's note: I CHANGED THE NAME OF LUKA'S BROTHER! **I understand that this might sound a bit weird to do like this, but since VjeraNadaLjubav was nice enough to point out to me that Dubravko is not a Croatian name, I have changed it to Dubravko since I want the story to be as believable as possible.  
At last – I'm sorry this took so bloody long, but I have been really busy and this chapter, as the last one, was a bit trouble to write. The flowing will be easier I think, but I'll be away until next Wednesday (April 16th) so it'll take a while to get the next one up.  
Hop you'll have patience, and thank you all who have reviewed so far!!! 

**CHAPTER THREE : ON THE THIRD DAY**

He felt the doctors around him staring at him as he got out of the taxi and started to walk up towards the hospital doors. It was early morning, but the whole city seemed to be in total chaos already. Cars and people everywhere, millions of signs pointing at places he would never visit. At least not this time he was in Chicago. It was ironic, really. The first time he actually managed to cross the Atlantic he would spend all his time at a hospital.  
He had always wondered what kind of life Luka had here, it was hard to get anything out of him and if he ever said something then it was about the weather, the language he still, after several years, sometimes found weirder then ever, or then he asked thousands of questions about the current situation at home. He never said anything about who he had met, what he had seen or done – or even more important – how he felt.  
Dubravko sighed. All the hours he had spent in that plane across the huge Atlantic, for him and many other Europeans considered the sea of hope – a deep, blue road to freedom; all those hours he had wondered why they never had noticed anything. Why had Luka never said anything? Why, why and why?  
It was almost ten years ago now. Ten years since they had heard about what had happened in Vukouvar through the neighbours, ten years ago Luka had spent his last night in the house they both had been born. He had shown up there, pending between being a wreck and totally empty on feelings. A few days less than ten years ago his bed suddenly had been empty. Nine and a half years ago they had received a call from a lousy line in Rome, telling them nothing about when he was going to come back or where he lived. Almost three years ago that hand written note saying "Cook County General, Chicago Illinois, USA" had arrived and immediately being posted on the wall at home. The phone number attached to the note was long and expensive to call, so the calls had been rare. Birthdays, wedding days.  
But the past year things had seemed to slowly get back to normal. Suddenly there had been a call from the Doctors Without Borders base in Sarajevo. The look on their father's face as he who for once wasn't at the railway station put down the phone had been unforgettable. He had gone up to a little town at the Bosnian border, and they had spent a few days there together before Luka had to return to Sarajevo and their father to Zagreb. The latest photo their mother had of Luka had been taken then. It was always a good sign when he let someone take a picture of him. According to their father he had been happy. Older, quieter, darker; but happy – at least somewhat. But that was a year ago, and apparently a lot had happened since Luka returned to America. Their father had half-heartedly tried to make him stay, but knew it was no point. He seemed to be happy there, their father had explained to his upset wife when she had yelled at him for not making her son stay with her.  
But apparently that hadn't been true. At least not for long.  
  
As he basically got pushed through the swinging doors by a Chinese doctor and some paramedics with a gurney he thought about what Dr. Lewis had said. That Luka had been depressed. Depressed and lonely – depressed and lonely enough to want to end everything. That he had tried to kill himself with a Valium overdose but hadn't succeeded and was lying unconscious at the intensive care unit. That they didn't know when he would wake up but that she thought he would need Dubravko when he finally opened his eyes again.  
  
He walked up to what seemed to be the admit desk.  
"I was supposed to ask for Dr. Lewis," he said.  
The desk clerk was no exception from the doctors he had met so far. Also he stared at him, as if he tried to place him somewhere deep inside his mind, or just wondered who he was and what the hell he was doing there. A bit nervous Dubravko repeated the question inside his head. Except from last night on the phone it was a long time since he last had spoken English – there could be something wrong with the grammar. Should it really be "was" after "I", or had he forgotten something…? The desk clerk kept staring at him, and Dubravko was just about to ask for Dr. Lewis again when a blonde woman of medium length; that meant that she barely reached his shoulders but he was used to it – came running up to them. She stopped right in front of him, seeming a bit stressed despite the early hour.  
"Dubravko Kovac?"  
He nodded and smiled slightly at her.  
"I'm Dr. Lewis, we spoke on the phone," she said as they shook hands.  
"Where is Luka," he asked immediately as she was done introducing herself. She nodded towards the elevators.  
"Right this way."  
  
***  
  
"Jesus," Dubravko said, mostly to himself.  
The door to the ICU room in front of them was closed, but he could look inside the room through the window. The room was filled with more or less scary looking equipment – machines and monitors, lines running up and down the walls. In the middle there was the single bed with his brother on it. It looked like if he was just sleeping, but knowing why he was there himself and considering what Dr Lewis had told him in the elevator up Dubravko knew that wasn't the case.  
"Do you want to go inside?" she asked gently.  
He nodded, and she opened the door. The distinct hospital smell became stronger as they walked inside the isolated room. He had never understood how Luka was able to work in an environment smelling like this.  
"He has shown a few signs of waking up," he heard her say as he sat down at the chair next to the bed. "We think it might not be very long before he starts coming to."  
Dubravko nodded.  
"Will he hear me if I talk to him?" he asked, looking straight at her as if he thought she would lie otherwise.  
"Yes, I think so," she nodded. He heard a beeping sound, and she took a look at the pager she was wearing in her belt. She sighed.  
"Look – I'll have to go back down to the ER, but if anything happens just press this button…-" she said and nodded at the emergency alarm on the wall "…- and I'll be here in a heartbeat."  
He nodded slowly. "But what if you're busy…? I wouldn't want to intrude on your work"  
"Then Dr. Weaver or Dr. Carter will come up," she simply said, and he nodded when another, rather scary, thought hit him.  
"Could there be any complications later, I mean after he has woken up?"  
She avoided the direct question; as he had seen doctors, starting with Luka, do many times before. It didn't exactly calm him down.  
"Right now the most important thing is that he knows you're here. I told him you were coming so I think he already knows… - he has to want to wake up again. Otherwise he won't."  
"That's some responsibility," Dubravko sighed and looked at Luka, lying there on the bed, pale and seeming so far away somewhere else.  
"It'll be just fine," she assured him with a smile. The beeper went off again and she muttered something he didn't hear.  
"You just call, if there's anything…-"  
"Yes, I will. Thank you, Dr. Lewis," he said, not quite wanting her to leave but not wanting her to be late because of him either.  
She nodded and rushed out to the sound of a third beep.  
  
***  
  
Hours and hours went by and Susan rushed between the trauma rooms with or without bloody trauma gowns. Every now and then she took the elevator up to the ICU to see if there was any change.  
Dubravko sat at the chair she had spent the night before last on, talking to Luka in Croatian. He stopped every time she came in, always nervously asking her if anything was wrong. She always assured him nothing was, went inside for a few minutes – that was how long she could stand there without the feeling of her being an intruder growing so much that she had to go outside again. As soon as she closed the door Dubravko started his one-sided conversation with Luka again, and she always stood there outside the room, looking in for a while before leaving. They were so ridiculously alike, Dubravko and Luka; she knew many others had noticed it too. The same height, similar voices although Dubravko's accent when he spoke English naturally was heavier than Luka's, and the same hair. But Dubravko's eyes were green, while Luka's were dark blue. Except for that they looked like twins – they even made the same gestures with their hands while talking.  
But still she couldn't help but to notice one big difference – Dubravko, although he now obviously was worried right now, seemed much more at peace with himself. Of course it was Luka and not he who had tried to kill himself and there was the reason for that, but still. He didn't have the same shadow over his whole appearance that Luka always had, and he seemed easier to talk to.  
  
***  
  
She was just finished with the second case of domestic violence they had had in a few hours and walked up to the admit desk to announce her going for a coffee when Gallant came running towards her.  
"Dr Lewis! Dr Lewis!"  
She groaned and stopped to wait for him.  
"What?" she asked, trying to scan through the patients she had seen today. Who was on his or her deathbed now?  
"They called from the ICU," he said. "Dr. Kovac is waking up."  
Her heart started to beat faster. Finally! She nodded, dumped her chart at him and started running towards the elevator.  
"Susan! Wait up," she heard a voice just as she was about to step inside. Kerry came running as fast as the crunch allowed her to.  
"I'm coming with you," she said when she stepped inside just as the doors closed and the cabin started moving.  
  
A doctor from the ICU was already inside the room when they arrived. Kerry exchanged a few words with him, and he left.  
Susan rushed straight to the bed. Luka wasn't as pale anymore and he moved a little, but apparently not wanting to open his eyes to the sun the shone in through the window.  
"Luka, do you know where you are?" she asked him, taking his hand.  
"I'm…. I'm not sure…" he spoke slowly and his voice was hoarse and pained.  
"You're at the ICU at County," she said gently.  
"What…?" He opened his eyes but closed them almost immediately again, apparently very confused over where he was and why and how he had ended up there.  
"You got a bit too heavy with the sleeping pills," she heard Kerry's "nice-while-talking-to-disorientated-or-grieving-patients-voice" from the door, getting closer. She came up to the bed, standing opposite Susan who made another attempt to make him remember.  
"I found you on your livingroom floor," she began softly, still holding his hand "you had passed out and was barely breathing, so we had to take you in …-"  
She could see that he was loosing touch with her again, his grip of her hand loosened and he leaned back against the pillow.  
"No, no, Luka – you've got to stay here with me now," she said, taking a tighter grip of his hand and gently patting his unshaved cheek. He moved a little and murmured something she couldn't make out; she doubted that it was in English. Suddenly he opened up his eyes, looking straight at her but she still had a feeling of him not seeing her.  
"Danijela…" he whispered, reaching out for her with his free hand. He started talking in Croatian, slurring his words.  
"I knew you would come back to me, my sweetheart, I love you…-" He tried even harder to reach out to her, but he was too tired.  
She felt as if someone had punched her. He thought she was his wife, the wife he had lost so many years ago. She didn't understand the rest of what he was saying, but she could guess.  
"Luka, you have to calm down…-" she began while exchanging a horrified look with Kerry, but he kept talking, nothing made sense – it was just words put after each other – English, Croatian, Italian. He tried to sit up while once again trying to reach her, touch her face. Suddenly his voice started to tremble, and he started speaking English again, apparently totally unaware of it.  
"I'm sorry…" he whispered and squeezed her hand "I know that you must hate what I have become… but I swear, I will make it up to you, I will… none of those women meant anything to me, you're the only one…you're the only one, I love you…"  
"Luka, please…-"  
"No, no, Danijela, listen to me…-"  
"Luka – you're at County," she said, trying to make herself clear by slightly raising her voice, but he didn't listen.  
"Danijela, please listen to me… I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to…. I didn't mean to…"  
The ""I didn't mean to's" became weaker and weaker as his energy left him and he sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes again. She sighed with relief as he finally calmed down.  
"Jesus," she heard from the window. She looked up and saw Dubravko stand there, apparently pretty shaken.  
"What is wrong with him?" he asked, trying to control his trembling voice.  
Kerry shook her head and went up to him.  
"He is just confused," she said "it's not very unusual that things like this happen when someone has been unconscious for this long."  
"But why would he think you were Danijela…?" he asked, sounding pretty upset, turned to Susan "…you're not even anything like her! She was dark, and you're blonde… I don't understand why he'd…-"  
"I don't think he saw me, Dubravko," Susan said gently. "He looked at me, but thought he saw Danijela, since she apparently has been on his mind lately."  
"Always. He's always thinking about her. Has done so ever since he was seventeen. She was his life. He would have done anything, given up anything for her. You wouldn't believe how much he loved her…"  
His voice started to tremble again and he had to bite his lower lip and stare out of the window to keep the tears from coming. It was so unfair. So damn, freaking unfair.  
  
***  
  
Danijela seemed to disappear from him once again, and broken he fell back into the semi-consciousness he had been slipping in and out of the past hours. The sounds around him faded, but didn't fully disappear. He desperately tried to catch up with the comfortable sleep, but apparently its time was passed. He had to stay here now. He heard voices he recognized – talking over his head. He understood what they were saying, but still he couldn't make it out. It was as if they spoke in a foreign language he had heard so many times that he was familiar with the words but he couldn't translate them, put them together to something that made sense. Suddenly he felt different smells, and for a few minutes he had a feeling of flying. Then it stopped and the smell from before came back. More voices, someone calling his name over and over again. One after another the voices became fewer, things quietened. A strong, almost panicky, fear of being left alone hit him when he felt a soft, fresh touch on his forehead. A gentle caress, soft and refreshing. Slowly but surely he felt his body relaxing, his breathing and heartbeat went back to normal. The soft touch was still there – someone gently stroking his forehead, making him calm.  
  
***  
  
After a while he dared to open his eyes to the light. The left eye first, then the right one. The bright sunlight shone straight at him and he had to turn right to avoid it. He still felt the soft touch on his forehead, and when he turned his head right he looked straight at the person the wonderful hands belonged to.  
"Hey," he heard a voice just as soft as the hands, but not the voice he had expected. He tried to focus his tired eyes at the person next to him. The more his sight cleared up the more his mind started to catch up as well. He looked around him, and saw the familiar white walls, smelled the familiar smell. Suddenly he remembered the same voice talking about County, and the more his mind cleared up the more of his surroundings he recognized. Also the person next to him cleared up and he blinked to clear up the last of the blur.  
"Susan…?" His voice was hoarse and his throat felt sore. She nodded with a smile.  
"The same."  
He tried to smile at her, but a sharp pain went through his head and made him grimace of pain.  
"What happened?" he managed to get out a few seconds later when the pain seemed to have eased up a bit. She had understood that he didn't feel well and kept stroking his forehead.  
"You took a Valium overdose and passed out," she said gently. She looked down at her feet for a second before continuing.  
"I know that you tried to hurt yourself, Luka," she said, avoiding the word "suicide".  
He sighed as deeply as he could without feeling as if his head was about to explode.  
"Yes, I did," he said, looking down at his hands. He saw the bandage on the right hand and frowned at the sight of it. She saw his confusion.  
"You hurt your hand on a broken bottle," she said and kept him from touching the bandage. He sighed again.  
"But how… how did I end up here? I didn't expect anyone to find me…-"  
"I went to your place," she said.  
"You went to my place…?" He sounded as if he didn't quite believe she would do something like that in order to help him.  
She nodded.  
"I wanted to talk to you, but apparently you didn't want to discuss this. You should have, you know. We would have helped you, it wouldn't have had to go this far."  
Despite knowing better he shook his head, only causing the headache to hit him as a bomb and the rest of his body protesting. He felt a great wave of nausea coming over him but instead of throwing up he started coughing. It was hollow and empty, and his hands were trembling. She reached for the water cup and helped him to drink. Exhausted he sank down again.  
"For how long have I been here?" he asked.  
"This is the third day," she said while putting away the cup. He sighed.  
"I was unconscious for three days…?"  
She nodded.  
"You were very lucky, Luka. Carter was about to call it when your sinus rhythm came back."  
"He should have called it. I didn't want this."  
"And we didn't want you dead. You should have heard Abby's scream when she saw you – I think they must have heard her up here."  
He frowned at her last comment, and his following question made her a bit surprised. She had thought that mentioning Abby would make him ask something else.  
"I'm not in the ER…?"  
"No, not anymore. They needed the trauma room right after we got you back. What else is new, right?"  
She laughed, trying to lead him away from the only possible follow-up question - but he wasn't satisfied with her explanation.  
"Then where am I?"  
She bit her lip. Damn – they shouldn't have moved him yet. But the ICU was always full, and when he once had woken up they had felt that he had to be moved up here.  
"That's not the most important thing right now, is it," she said, knowing that this probably was the last thing she should have said.  
"Susan! What are you not telling me?"  
He started to sound almost normal since he was getting angry, and when she wouldn't answer he took a look around him to see if he recognized anything. He was about to give up and ask her again when he saw a doctor passing by the window out to the corridor. He quickly scanned through his mind to place the doctor at the right ward. Her name was Leyla Anderson – he knew that very well because he always disagreed with her every time he saw her. But from which damn ward was she…? She spoke to much and had that "I'm-saying-I-understand-you-even-though-I-never-could"-attitude he hated…  
Then it hit him.  
"Susan, what the hell am I doing at the psych?"  
She bit her lip again.  
"You know the policy as well as I do," she said "if a patient…-"  
"But I'm not crazy! I want to die – I'm not nuts!"  
She felt uncomfortable hearing him say that – more uncomfortable than she had thought she would. Of course she had known that his reaction to the psych ward would be what everybody else's was, but still… She didn't know. There was just something that made her feel very uncomfortable when he spoke about himself like that – like he didn't deserve to live.  
"Don't say that," she said shaking her head. "Just don't. I know you're not crazy, we all know that. You're just…-"  
"Suicidal, huh? Believe me Susan – the only thing I want to do is to die. To get away from all this."  
"But there are other ways," she said, almost upset with him not even considering being helped.  
"Not for me. Susan, I appreciate you caring for me like you have, but believe me, the only thing that coming out of it is that it'll take a little longer for me to succeed."  
"No. No – you'll get help, you'll get better, I promise you!"  
"But I don't want that," he said, almost calm. "Don't you understand – I have nothing to live for! Or…-" he sighed, "…- of course you don't understand. Nobody does. You're trained to save lives, not let people go when they want to."  
She took his hand again and looked straight at him.  
"Yes, you're right, I am trained to save people. But so are you! You shouldn't give up! I'm not going to let you!"  
He smiled resignedly.  
"It doesn't work like that, Susan."  
"Then tell me how it does work, so I can help you! Because you have things to live for – I know you do."  
"Like what?"  
"Your job, you family. Your family loves you, Luka. If you would just let them in. We all care about you, except what you think."  
He sighed.  
"Susan, don't do this"  
"Do what?"  
"Torture me."  
"Torture you?"  
"That is what you're doing"  
"But I don't want to do that," she said softly "I want to help you. We all do."  
"But you can't," he said, sighing. "So you might as well stop trying."  
He leaned back and closed his eyes. He was tired, his head hurt like hell and he was more nauseous then ever. She saw that this was not a proper time for lectures and once again started stroking his forehead. It felt good, but didn't make the pain go away as it had before.  
"Feeling any nausea?"  
He nodded, afraid he might vomit if he answered.

"Wait…-" she reached for a plastic basin. "Try to get it up – it will feel better afterwards."  
  
When he leaned back against the pillow again and she had put the basin away she took a look through the window. Dubravko was standing outside – Kerry had taken him with her when they came up, to explain some things and fill in some papers. Now he was back, and she didn't know for how long he had been standing there, but he looked pretty upset.  
"Dubravko is outside," she said to Luka. "Do you want me to let him in?"  
He nodded tiredly and she went to the door. Dubravko stepped inside.  
"How are you feeling?" he asked in Croatian.  
"You don't want to know," Luka muttered in their mothertounge.  
"It'll be fine."  
"No, it won't."  
Dubravko sighed and turned to Susan who still stood at the door, feeling like an intruder again.  
"I'll give you some privacy," she said, reading his mind. She opened the door and was about to close it behind her when she heard Luka's tired voice.  
"Susan…"  
She turned around.  
"Yes?"  
"Thank you… thank you, for everything. Still."  
She smiled.  
"Just get better now, will you."  
He gave her a little smile.  
"We'll see."  
  
He was just about to try and fall asleep when Dubravko sat down next to him and started the questioning he had feared.  
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked angrily. Or – he sounded angry, but was mostly scared. Luka sighed.  
"What do you mean?" he asked although he knew exactly what this was about.  
"You know damn well what I mean! Jesus, Luka – what are you doing? And why?!"  
"I'm tired, Dubravko. I can't do this, not anymore. I'm not asking you to understand, because you can't, but at least accept it."  
Dubravko shook his head.  
"No! So you think I'm supposed not to give a damn about that my own brother is falling apart?"  
"I'm not falling apart," Luka said, maybe in a bit too angry voice. But he couldn't help it – why did everybody have to try and talk him out of the only sensible decision he had made for months? The headache stroke again, and he sighed. He needed a pill or a drink – preferably both. He didn't know exactly what time it was, but surely it was way past when he usually took his morning dose. As Dubravko ranted on and on about things he didn't hear and frankly didn't want to hear either the only thing he could think about was those pills. He knew where they were and how many he needed to function and it drove him nuts enough to fit in at this damn ward not being able to get them.  
"Are you even listening?!" he suddenly heard his brother's angry voice. "Damned Luka, you haven't listened to one word I have said, have you?"  
Sighing he carefully shook his head.  
"No, I haven't. Because I know exactly what you're going to say!"  
"What am I going to say?"  
"That I'm wrong, that this is only a temporarily depression that'll go away, that I have things to live for, that I shouldn't do what I want. Don't you understand – this is what I want! If only Carter hadn't been so damn slow I would have been pronounced trouble-free now."  
"Remind me to thank him when I see him," Dubravko said dryly.  
"Don't you dare."  
"Don't _you_ dare! What do you think I felt when the phone rings in the middle of the night, wakes up me, Natalia, and mum for God's sake who in her turn wakes up the rest of the city with her screaming! Jesus, Luka – I thought she would have a heart attack when I had to tell her that some unfamiliar doctor from Chicago had found you drunk and passed out on your livingroom floor!"  
That hadn't been his exact words, of course. He hadn't known all the details back then at home. But maybe saying it like this would make Luka understand that what he was doing was wrong, wrong and wrong! If he felt guilty then it was a shame, but he'd have to live with that.  
"Don't…-"  
"No! I'm going to tell you exactly what it felt like so you never do this again!"  
"I wasn't planning on doing it again either!" Luka yelled. "If things had gone as I planned then…-"  
"…- then you would be dead and "free" right now, yes I know. But what I don't know is how the hell you could do this to me?"  
"To you?! Excuse me, but did I just miss something?"  
"And to mum and dad. To Alex and Natalia and… - and, how the hell am I supposed to tell my daughters that their uncle doesn't want to live anymore?!"  
"They haven't even met me. They wouldn't miss me."  
"But…-"  
"But you don't understand! I'm old, I'm tired, I'm fed up and disgusted with myself and…-"  
"You're not old…-"  
"AND lonely! You don't understand, Dubravko, and I know you can never do it either, because you have Natalia and you have your daughters. I have no one, and I will never have again."  
"That's not true," Dubravko said, softening a little after having gotten past the worst anger mixed with fear.  
"Oh yes, it is. I have done nothing but lost people the last years. Danijela, Jasna, Marko, Abby… - everyone. Everyone I ever cared about…"  
His voice trailed off and he looked at his hands again. The injured right one and the left one where his wedding ring still should have been. When he looked up he saw that Dubravko had been looking too.  
"You're not wearing your wedding ring…?"  
Luka shook his head.  
"I couldn't. I tried, but I can't stand looking at it. Despite that, it's not really the best way to attract women either – wearing a wedding ring..."  
Dubravko smiled.  
"No, I guess not."  
He looked down at his feet and Luka leaned back against the pillows. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. It had felt better while he was angry, but now when the anger started to disappear the pain everywhere was back again. He tried to switch positions in the bed, thinking that would ease it up a bit but the sudden movement only caused the pain to increase, and him to moan helplessly. There was nothing he could do to make it go away, and the knowledge of that didn't exactly make it easier to carry.  
Dubravko looked up, almost as awoken by hearing the moans of pain from the bed.  
"Do you need something? Should I call for Dr. Lewis…?"  
"No!"  
"But you need a doctor…"  
"And I am a doctor, so don't bother Susan, will you?!"  
There was the snapping again. He just couldn't control it – it was like being a teenager again. Dubravko shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands.  
"OK, OK – I got it!"  
Luka sighed.  
"I'm sorry… I'm just so tired and this hurts like hell… -"  
"I know—I'm sorry too, for barking at you like that. I know it hasn't been easy, I know that, I'm sorry."  
Luka managed to smile a little.  
"It's OK."  
"You're going to get better you know. And we'll be there for you – all of us. You know that. I'll stay here until they let you out, and then…-"  
"You can't stay here that long. You should never have come here in the first place."  
"Why?"  
"You can't afford it, you know that," Luka said quietly.  
It felt very uncomfortable to have to remind Dubravko of that his finances weren't that great – they were the unofficial reason he still lived in their childhood home with Natalia and the girls, the official was that he needed to take care of their mother while their father worked, but everyone knew that was just a cover up. They had always been proud. Maybe a bit too proud, but still – money, or mostly the lack thereof wasn't and had never been a thing you talked about in the Kovac family.

"I know…-," Dubravko said with a smile after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence "…- so I thought you could pay."  
  
***  
  
Susan threw away her bloody trauma gown and waited for Carter as he did the same. They started walking down the corridor towards the admit desk.  
"I hear Luka woke up?" he suddenly said.  
She nodded.  
"This morning."  
"How is he?"  
"Tired, depressed, disoriented…-" she watched Carter carefully before saying the last thing "…- and he's got a bad abstinence."  
Carter stopped and gave her a questioning look.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"He doesn't say anything, but I think he's been on Valium for a while now."  
"How long?"  
"Halloween, for sure… maybe ever since the lockdown."  
He sighed and she looked down on her feet. Luka hadn't said anything, but she knew the symptoms better than most people. And she knew Carter did too.  
"Great. So not only does he need to be admitted, but now rehab too?"  
"He doesn't need to be admitted," she said automatically, almost without thinking. When she did think it felt natural to have said that. She couldn't picture Luka at the psych any longer than he had to be – he definitely shouldn't be locked up. A skilled therapist, yes – psych admitting, no.  
"You should talk to him, Carter."  
He shook his head as they passed by trauma one.  
"No, no, no…"  
"Why not?"  
"Do you really have to ask?" Carter said in a voice that told her that she definitely should know better than to ask such a question.  
"Oh, would you just cut the macho pride both of you! I already tried to talk to him, but he won't listen to me."  
"He wouldn't listen to me."  
"Why not? Because of Abby…?"  
"And other things."  
"Like what?"  
They stopped in front of the vending machine and she watched Carter choosing among the candy bars that seemed to be the only lunch they would get today.  
"I don't know… things! You know…-"  
"If you don't know, then how am I supposed to know?"


	5. A bloody mess

**Author's comments: **Well, sorry this is so late (this is starting to feel like the normal way of starting these comments…). I would like to say that I spent all Easter out in the sun and then finished this (this is actually 14 pages!) in a heartbeat, but that would be a lie – I was sitting up until 3.30 in the morning for several nights, and if I don't watch out this will turn out to be "The Project of MY life" instead of what it's supposed to be. On top of everything I have had trouble with getting most things up and working so… but cut the excuses, will you? 

The name of this chapter definitely expresses what I feared it would turn out to be, but I don't think it's that bad after all. But please give me your opinions – and thanks again to those who have reviewed past chapters!

**CHAPTER FOUR : A BLOODY MESS  
  
The next morning**  
  
Dubravko dropped down a blue and white plastic bag on the chair next to the bed. The bag had with huge letters in red on it, screaming out something about the cheapest groceries in town.  
"The only one I could find," Dubravko said, nodding towards the bag.  
"I didn't want to run into that freaky neighbour of yours more than once…" he added with laughter in his voice, wanting Luka to agree. To reply, to nod, to laugh, to do anything except for what he did; closed and opened his eyes as another headache stroke him.  
"…- so I decided to take the first bag I saw," he concluded, trying to sound normal despite realizing that his choice of bag for the clothes and other stuff he had brought from Luka's apartment, or him having to stand and listen to that bloody woman's ramblings for half an hour probably wasn't Luka's highest priority right now.  
"Sorry," he said, mostly to himself, but Luka still replied.  
"Doesn't matter," he said tiredly.  
Dubravko wasn't sure whether his brother meant the stupid supermarket bag or his pathetic attempts to act as if nothing was weird but as if everything was just as it should be; that Luka swallowing a few hundred milligrams of Valium and passing out on the livingroom floor was just a parenthesis, not something worth mentioning or paying attention to.  
  
The worst of the headache disappeared and he dared to open his eyes again. For how long was things supposed to be like this? For how long should he snap at people as soon as they said the simplest thing to him, for how long would he not be able to keep down anything else than what the IV in his left arm gave him? He had lost count of how many times he had vomited that morning. That, and trying to remember in which way he should breathe and drink to keep the room from spinning as it did as soon as he moved was really the only things he could do. It felt like a permanent, bad hangover. The only thing he wanted to do was to sleep, but he couldn't sleep thanks to the pain everywhere, to make that go away he would need at least a half bottle of whiskey or some random pills, what kind didn't really matter, as long as they were benzodiazepnies.  
"You have to make sure you're in shape for Christmas," he suddenly heard Dubravko's voice. Luka slowly turned around, surprised that none of his inner organs seemed to protest heavily.  
"What Christmas?" he asked dryly.  
"The Christmas you're going to spend with Natalia, the girls, mum, dad and me," Dubravko answered quite persistently. Luka let out a dry laugh.  
"No, no, no… YOU are going to spend Christmas with them - I'm going home."  
"Yes – you're going home as in home with me. As soon as they release you we get on a plane to Zagreb."  
"No!" Luka practically yelled. Or maybe he had just raised his voice a little – in his head it felt as if he had yelled across the Atlantic loud enough to get an answer from the Europeans.  
"You're not staying here!"  
"Oh, yes I am."  
"No, you're not. As if you could, for that matter."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"You can't go to that apartment – it's cold, lonely and still smells like a brewery no matter how hard your colleagues tried to clean it."  
Luka opened his mouth to protest against the trip home that was getting forced upon him when he heard Dubravko's last words. He looked closely at his brother, replaying the sentence inside his hurting head.  
_"…- no matter how hard your colleagues tried to clean it"_  
"What…?" he asked in disbelief.  
  
**Earlier the same morning**  
  
Abby felt her heartbeat speed up as she turned the key in the lock. One, two three…- and Luka's livingroom showed up in front of her. Without looking she went inside, letting Carter step in and get out of the stairs in which he had been standing patiently while she had dropped the key twice before getting it into the lock, snapping at him when he offered to help.  
"Holy Mother of God," she heard him gasp.  
"That bad?"  
"We'll be stuck here all Christmas."  
She heard his reply, and sighed. She knew he was trying to joke – he always did that in cases like this. But right now it was the last thing he should have done. Did he find this funny? Didn't he understand what it felt like for her?  
  
He looked at her. She was standing about a meter in front of him, apparently with her eyes closed. He regretted what he had let slip out. It hadn't been supposed to sound like he found this funny, but he couldn't come up with anything better to say. Hell – here he was, in his girlfriends ex's - their colleague's – apartment, supposed to tidy it up enough for him to be able to return home for Christmas when he was released from the psych after a failed suicide attempt before which he had written a letter where he declared his love for his ex – their colleague – the love of Carter's life. It wasn't exactly a dream situation.  
Of course he understood that this was weird and difficult for her, but it wasn't exactly easy on him either.  
They should never have come here. He was about to suggest they'd leave when he saw a woman's head lurking out of the neighbour door. Swearing to himself he shut the door behind them. He had certainly had enough of Ellie for a lifetime. He pulled off his gloves and put them in his coat pockets.  
"Shall we begin then?"  
  
She swallowed.  
"The stuff is still in the car."  
He frowned  
"What stuff?"  
  
She took a deep breath, immediately regretting it when the whiskey smell started to tease her. God, she would never stand this place.  
"I took some of my cleaning stuff with me. They're in the backseat."  
"I'm pretty sure Luka's got some soap and water."  
"You don't clean stuff like this with soap and water!" she snapped, immediately regretting it.  
"I'm sorry, John," she said, turning to him. "Could you just go after those things? I'd like to… -" her voice tangled off and she looked down on the stained floor for a split second  
"…- be alone for a while."  
The thought of Ellie-the-neighbour-from-hell stroke him, but then he saw Abby's now open eyes, gazing at him, begging him to do as she said.  
"Sure" he said and opened the door, taking a deep breath to prepare for the questioning that - if he knew anything about old, lonely and eavesdropping women – was about to come.  
  
He closed the door behind him and Abby sighed and turned around to face the mess in front of her. It both did and didn't surprise her. She knew where on the list of priorities cleaning came when one had been drinking for a while, but she had never thought Luka and she would have the same flaw. Or, they didn't. She was the alcoholic being tempted only by the smell of vodka and whiskey from the floor, he was the suicidal one who drank and threw bottles around him because he hated himself. She knew that feeling too. But it was a long time ago, and she didn't want to go back. She desperately didn't want to go back.  
All the days that almost had become a week now, after Luka's – what the hell to call it? Accident? Break down? Failed suicide attempt? – She had tried to avoid it so hard that she didn't even have a word for it. She hadn't thought about it, hadn't visited him, and hadn't asked Susan about what was going on. Hadn't talked to his brother, hadn't done a damn bloody thing until today. John had told her about Susan trying to talk him into visiting Luka and make him stop taking Valium when he came home from the hospital and she was making dinner. She had dropped the salad bowl and yelled that it was the last thing he should do. He had calmed her down by saying that he hadn't told Susan he would, and that he wasn't exactly tempted by it either, but she still wasn't totally calm. She had tried to keep Luka outside her and Carter's relationship from the very beginning, and had apparently succeeded to do so, despite what the letter had said. She was pretty sure that Susan would have told her if he had been asking about her, but nothing had been said. He didn't want to talk to her anymore. He had finally given up.  
  
She went further inside the flat and started to pick up things from the floor. She recognized every single thing. The book by Stephen King he thought was boring but still kept because it was the first book he had read in English, the Croatian newspapers he got delivered several days after they were fresh in Zagreb, the black pencil he wrote all his notes with, something that was almost unnecessary considering what his handwriting looked like – the records by Sting he'd listen to until they broke, a grey sweater she knew Danijela had knitted for him and that he always wore when he was freezing. All the things that meant something to him there on the floor, as to show that nothing in his life was worth anything anymore.  
She sighed and threw the things on the couch and sat down next to them, suddenly exhausted. She covered her face with her hands for a second, and then looked in front of her again. Her eyes caught a glimpse of something on the table and she leaned forward.  
The door slammed and she heard Carter's steps getting closer. He came up to her and was about to say something when he saw what she was doing.  
She picked up one of the old pictures from the table. She could tell they were old without even looking at them because Luka never had pictures of anyone, so these had to be from the past.  
The photo in her hand felt fragile, almost as if it had been burned and had only escaped the flames by accident or pure luck.  
She looked at the picture and when she saw the woman and the little girl gazing back at her from the photo her throat thickened and she had to blink the tears away.  
"That his family?" she heard Carter's quiet voice behind her. She nodded and he sat down next to her at the little space between her and the stuff she had dumped on the couch.  
"They are beautiful," he said, not really to her but still in a way. She nodded again.  
"I know… I never knew what his kids looked like…"  
"He never showed you?"  
"No. Only Danijela – his wife. I asked him once, but he said he didn't have any pictures…"  
"Maybe he didn't want to look back"  
"I guess."  
They were quiet for a while, overlooking the pictures without touching them, as if they would go up in flames if they let their fingers touch them. Unaware of each other they scanned through the photos until Carter broke the silence.  
"What were their names?" he asked, almost making Abby jump.  
"Jasna and Marko," she replied. "But I don't know if I pronounce it rightly."  
"Sounds good to me"  
"I'm sure it's wrong. I was never good with languages – hell, I can't even pronounce his name the right way!"  
Carter frowned.  
"We pronounce it wrong?"  
She nodded.  
"Yeah – there should be more of the 'u' and like a 'h' between 'k' and 'a' – or, I don't know about the 'h' but he always likes when I say it that way…-" She bit her lip and sank back into her thoughts. Carter was still looking at the picture of Danijela. He picked it up and held it up in front of her.  
"Do you see how much like Carol she looked?"  
Abby nodded and pulled some of her hair behind her ears.  
  
They were quiet again and both jumped at the sharp signal of the phone a few minutes later.  
"Do you think we should…?" Carter began, Abby nodded and they started searching for the phone in the direction the signals came from. Before they were even close Luka's machine took the call.  
Both of them feeling weird about hearing Luka's voice giving the caller directions about what to do after the beep they stopped and ended up standing on the livingroom floor.  
An elderly woman's voice came out of the machine. She sounded upset, at the edge of crying. She told the machine her message in a language they didn't understand and then hung up, ending the message with a phrase they were familiar with by now.  
_"Volem te, Luka."  
_"That I understood," Carter said when the machine beeped again to show that the message was ended.  
"Yeah."  
Abby held her breath, fearing another fight about whether Luka loved her or not when Carter turned to her, smiling.  
"You were right about the 'u'"  
  
A few hours later the flat still smelled like a brewery, but at least the stuff lying everywhere was gone and the floors cleaned.  
"I think we did a pretty good job," Carter said as they stood by the door, ready to leave but taking a last look at what they had done.  
"Yeah, I'd say so," Abby said, now feeling better. Some things had been hard – changing the sheets in Luka's bed had made her remember doing the same thing one Sunday morning many months ago when he had gone down to get them some breakfast. She had done it in order to surprise him, and as a thank you he had forced himself to watch Fear Factor with her. Only seeing the bed brought back memories, sweet ones, but what the rest of the flat gave her, not to mention the aquarium, wasn't as nice.  
_"You're not that pretty, not that special!"  
" You're married to a ghost!"  
"Carter can have you!"  
_But despite everything she in a way felt relieved. It was over. Everything about Luka that had haunted her was coming to a conclusion – not only cleaning his floors but also part by part understanding why he had done what he had – why things had turned out like this – helped her to put things past her. He was far past her being able to help. He needed help she maybe could have been able to give someone as a nurse, but she couldn't be a nurse around him – around him she was just Abby, more or less messed up.  
  
Carter opened the door and they walked out in the snow when they saw a familiar figure approaching. The sight of the man made them jump and they met Dubravko with perplexed looks on their faces.  
"God, I thought you were Luka," Abby said, damning her heart for speeding again. If it kept doing this every five minutes she'll soon end up in the court of the human body, accused of lack of responisbility in traffic or whatever the legal word for speeding was.  
"People keep saying we look alike," Dubravko replied with a smile.  
"You most certainly do," Carter said, sounding almost as shaken as Abby felt.  
Dubravko looked down for a while, then up at the house.  
"I was supposed to get some stuff for Luka, to the hospital. This is where he lives, isn't it?"  
They nodded, and he realized that they were just leaving the same building he was about to enter, something that made him assume they lived there.  
"Are you neighbours? Of Luka's, I mean?"  
"No, no – we just decided things needed to be tidied up a bit," Abby said, relieved that Carter had managed to get the dreadful rope away from the ceiling. That was certainly not something Dubravko should see.  
"I see," he said with a smile very similar to Luka's. "Thank you – that'll make it easier for me to find what I am looking for."  
They smiled at him, the same thought hitting them both at the same time.  
"Do you…" Carter began,  
"…- have the key?" Abby finished.  
Dubravko nodded and held up a little piece of metal against the winter sun.  
"Good…. – I have it, I could have given it to you…. I still have it you know…- well, you probably know…" She was rambling whatever came to her head, but somehow Dubravko seemed to understand.  
"Yes, I know," he said calmly. "It's Abby, isn't it?"  
She nodded.  
"Yes."  
"Luka told me about you. Only good things," he added when he saw her uncomfortable look. She smiled.  
"Right… well, there isn't much to say about it anymore, Luka probably told you everything…."  
"I don't need to know everything," he said. "It's your busniess, not mine. I'm just happy that he's still alive," he said, only to realize that it sounded like he thought her company would have killed Luka.  
"He'll be OK," Carter said.  
"People keep telling me that"  
"But everybody knows how doctors lie, right?"  
"Sure - starting with my brother," Dubravko said with a laugh. "You know, if he says he's OK then it's time to lock him up. If he actually admits things are bad, then they're usually good, considering…" he added sounding a bit more dark.  
Suddenly something hit him. Jesus, he thought slowly these days.  
"Forgive me, but I never caught your name…?" he asked the man in front of him.  
"John Carter," he said, confirming Dubravko's suspicions.  
"I thought so," he said as they shook hands. "Luka has told me about you too."  
Carter didn't quite know what to reply to that, not knowing if he had been mentioned as the man who stole Abby or just as a colleague.  
"I have to thank you, Dr. Carter".  
"For what?" Carter asked, a bit puzzled.  
"You saved my brother's life"  
"No… Dr. Lewis did that," he said, feeling almost embarrassed.  
"But you didn't give up on him," Dubravko said. "My family and I are very thankful for that."  
"I'm glad."  
There was a uncomfortable silence, the weather was freezing cold but they were just standing there.  
"Well, I guess I'd better get in there so I can get back…-" Dubravko said, nodding towards the house.  
"Right," Abby said turned around to go to the nearby car. "See you."  
"Sure."  
Dubravko was just about to open the door to the house when he heard Carter's voice.  
"Watch out for Luka's real neighbour, will you? She's a serious mess."  
Dubravko laughed.  
"Sure."  
  
**Later the same day**  
  
Luka had almost dozed off when a knock on the door woke him up.  
"What?" he asked impolitely. There was no need to be polite to whoever it was that had blown his chances of a few decent hours.  
The door was opened, and if possible, he felt even more annoyed with the person behind it when he saw who it was.  
Carter stepped inside.  
"I hope I didn't wake you."  
"Hmpf," Luka muttered and tried to make Carter understand that he was not wanted here. Not no, not ever.  
As he thought that he started to think. Why did he dislike Carter so much? He didn't hate him, but sometimes it wasn't far away from that. What had the man ever done to him?  
"Stole Abby," a voice inside him said, but he didn't listen to it because he, even in his current state, knew it wasn't true. Abby was not why even the sight of Carter sometimes made him mad. Maybe it was how he seemed to try to fill Mark's place, or maybe they just were too different. Or too similar. Most people that couldn't stand each other were as a matter of fact too similar.  
  
Carter didn't answer – after all, what were you supposed to reply to "hmpf" – but sat down at the chair next to the bed. Luka was wearing his own clothes; he looked as if he was on his way home even though that wasn't the case. After hugging him as a thank you for going up here Susan had told him about Luka's condition, and it was certainly not very nice. He knew it far too well.  
"Susan told you to come up?"  
Luka's question didn't really sound like a question, more like a statement he wanted proved right or wrong. Carter nodded and Luka sighed.  
"So she made you promise to talk me out of not wanting her help?" he asked, realizing there was no point still sounding this impolite since he was awake and would stay that way. But on the other hand – he felt like crap and what use was there keeping up this act any longer?  
"No," Carter said and shook his head. "But I still think you should let her in. She only wants to help you." The only reply he got was a snort.  
"It's hard to go through this without anyone's help," he continued, deciding to try not to care about that Luka's attitude could have been better. He knew why it was like that.  
"And what the hell do you know?" Luka's question almost made Carter laugh considering where his thoughts had been.  
"A lot, trust me."  
"You do, do you? Well…-" Luka sat up a little bit more. It hurt, but it was possible.  
"…-Tell me what it's like to loose your everything?"  
Carter shook his head and looked down at his hands for a while. God, hadn't he rather been somewhere cosy with Abby right now, not here in a psych room, trying to talk Luka into admitting himself to a rehab. Why was he doing this? For Susan who had asked him to, or for Abby who couldn't do it herself? It wasn't for Luka, that was for sure. What were they anyway? Colleagues? Well, yeah. Friends? No, no. Rivals? More likely. First he had wanted Abby and Luka had had her, now he had Abby and Luka apparently wanted her. Enemies? Sometimes he thought that was the case, but mostly it felt like a too strong word. Mostly it was as if he could stand Luka as long as he wasn't around. Like this morning – talking about him was fine, talking to him now was worse.  
"That's not what I meant," he said.  
"Then what did you mean," Luka snapped.  
"You know."  
"Do I look like it?!"  
Carter looked straight at the doctor in front of him before replying.  
"I'm talking about the pills."  
Luka groaned.  
"What the…-"  
"I know you're on them, I know you've been for a while and that's why you act like this."  
"Still knowing everything, huh, Carter? Well, let me tell you something ...-"  
"You know damn well that I know what I'm talking about! I know exactly what you're going through right now, whether you want me to or not!"  
"And who gives a damn about what I do? If I want to die by a Valium overdose then bloody well let me do it!"  
"Susan gives a damn. Abby, Deb, Weaver, Romano, Pratt, Gallant, I…- we all give a damn! Your family gives a damn!"  
"Oh don't you too start with that guilt thing! I've been there done that - it doesn't work anymore. Let's just decide that every damn thing that goes wrong inside this hospital is my fault and let me die in peace!"  
"I didn't say that."  
"You meant it. And it's fine by me. I want to die, it's just you people who won't let me!"  
"Are you listening to yourself Luka? You sound like someone in desperate need of a shrink and rehab!" He knew he was insensitive, but that was usually the only way.  
"And if you're lucky you won't even need to be locked up," he said a bit calmer. "You can usually get rid of Valium by yourself."  
"Lucky me," Luka snorted.  
"It's not very fun to be locked up for 90 days."  
"As I said – lucky me! Let's just get me to a freaking shrink and get me off the pills – then everything' ll be fine!"  
"You said you were on them. That's the first step."  
"I don't want any damn 12-step programme! There is no God willing to take my burden away and I will most certainly not sit in a room with a bunch of addicts…-"  
"And you might not have to either! If you just let Susan and me help…-" Carter tried not to loose his temper, but it was hard.  
"Saint Carter," Luka muttered, followed by something in Croatian.  
"What was that?"  
"You don't wanna know"  
"You can call me exactly what you like – I'm not going anywhere before you promise me to…-"  
"For God's sake Carter! Don't you get it?! I…-"  
"I know exactly how you feel, I was the same with Mark and Dr. Benton. But when I let them help me…-"  
"Go to hell. Take your damn psychoanalysis and go to hell! "  
"Maybe later, not right now. I know you don't want to be like this – why can't you let someone help you? Do it for yourself! Or for Abby, for the patients…-"  
Carter tried to come up with a really heavy name. Someone that could make Luka change his mind. Then he got it.  
"Or do it for Danijela. If you care." He added the last in an icy voice, not knowing why he did it. It was clearly a very unnecessary comment.  
Luka's eyes turned darker.  
"You don't know my wife, you spoiled little brat!"  
Carter took a deep breath to once again try and control his temper, but now it shone through and he couldn't stop more unnecessary things from leaving his mouth.  
"Do you think she likes the way you're now? Sleeping with every woman in sight, drinking every night 'til you pass out?"  
"Get out!" Luka yelled and pointed at the door, but Carter ignored him.  
"So you don't care then? Or can you just not stand to hear the truth?"  
"That's not the truth!"  
"Oh no? Then what is?"  
Luka couldn't answer, he just looked down at his hands.  
"Can't tell, huh? Or don't you just find a good way to convince me that you're still, underneath it all, a decent man?"  
Luka recognized the tone in Carter's voice and it drove him even more furious. It was a tone they all used to patients who were so annoying that you got sick of pretending you cared. Despite that he was starting to feel powerless to the accusations thrown against him – he had told himself the exact same things, but couldn't stand hearing Carter saying them.  
It was long ago he had been this furious with someone, long ago he was going to have to use dirty tricks to save his own skin. But it was coming back to him. After all, he had been pretty good at it once – he had always been better at verbal warfare than at handling guns. Growing up with Dubravko had made it come naturally.  
  
"As if you were so much better!" He said it half-heartedly; not expecting it to cause the reaction it did, just to win more time, maybe even make Carter angry enough to leave.  
"What?!"  
Luka smiled a smile very unlike him, but it made him feel stronger. He suddenly remembered what it probably was that caused this reaction – why Carter seemed to be unpleasantly reminded of something. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Saint Carter, bah…  
"Well – how old was that child-life specialist of yours? 19?"  
He could see that his words went under Carter's skin just as they were supposed to.  
  
Carter gasped. How dared Luka drag Rena into this? He remembered the days he had had with her with embarrassment – he had never been proud over his inability to tell her age.  
Trying to come up with a fair reply he looked at Luka who glared back. As they stared at each other the fury and disgust he felt over the man in front of him grew more and more. Every single detail he had ever been annoyed with, every single thing he had ever heard or knew about Luka came back to him as flashbacks. The feeling that they might have something, if not a lot, in common, that he had had earlier that day while looking at the picture of Danijela was disappearing as fast as the snow was covering the ground outside.  
This was getting very low, but he couldn't help it. This was about his own honour, Abby's honour…  
Everything is fair in love and war. This was more war than the Middle East ever could be.  
  
Luka smiled to himself when he saw how trapped Carter was. Trying not to loose his temper and the very last of his self-control he was standing there, desperately searching for something to say.  
"At lest I'm not sleeping around with nurses," he suddenly said.  
Carter crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for a reaction. That hadn't been a good one, but he had been desperate.  
Just as he tried to turn his brain inside out to come up with something he saw the look on Luka's face. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad one after all…  
Suddenly the triumphant reply came.  
"So Abby doesn't count anymore?"  
Damn. He hadn't thought of that.  
"I don't see a very big difference between Abby and the other nurses?" Luka smiled evilly again. One could have a lot to say about the surroundings he had grown up in, but they certainly taught you more fighting spirit than the Carter Mansion did.  
"Oh yes there is! I love Abby – you just used her! Not to talk about Chuny…"  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
"Need to refresh your memory? What was it you called Abby again…- not that pretty, not that special, wasn't it? You know what – even if I didn't love her, as I do, I'd still be so happy to have her away from you!"  
"As if you knew what she needs!"  
"Yes I do."  
"No you don't! You're just trying to make her into something she isn't!"  
"Well, at least that's better than letting her drink!"  
"I didn't know she was an alcoholic! She never told me!"  
"No, and why the hell not? She knew you wouldn't care!"  
"I never got the chance, you were always everywhere!" Luka's heart started to beat harder as he raised his voice to feel that he still somewhat was on track. Either his knowledge of the upper class was poor, or then Carter had more fighting experience than he seemed to. He could feel his body protesting but pushed it away. The last thing he wanted Carter to see was him collapsing right now.  
"And where would she be now if I hadn't been there? Huh?" Carter's voice was demanding, cold – he sounded as if he had thrown away the very last of his principles and attempts to help and now only wanted one thing – victory.  
"With me. She would be with me." He wished he didn't sound so tired and beaten. Where was Dubravko and his temper when you needed them?  
"Yeah. In hell," Carter snorted.  
"I could have taken care of her but I never got the chance! You were always in the way, always intruding…- don't think I have forgotten! I will never forget!" He heard how much heavier his accent had gotten the past minutes. It always was like that when he was yelling, and he couldn't stand it. In situations when you had to sound convincing it wasn't very fitting for 'y' to sound like 'j', to take an example.  
"Well you'd better forget! You'd better forget all about Abby right this instant! You're not going to hurt her once more, not…-"  
"I never meant to hurt her…!"  
"No?! So why did you write that God damn letter then?! Telling her that she's so important to you, that she means so much… that you love her, for God's sake!"  
Luka had, as he had done all along, started to think about a killer reply when he heard exactly what Carter said. What letter…?  
"What…?" he asked, feeling totally at sea. He had a uncomfortable feeling of having forgotten something important, but the more he tried to scan through his mind, the less he was able to remember.  
"What are you talking about…?" he added, not even sounding angry anymore. But Carter didn't notice. He had suddenly, as if out of nowhere, remembered that bloody suicide letter he had had to read to Abby. He remembered how his throat had thickened while reading – when he understood what it said.  
_"Volem te, Abby. You know what it means."  
_He had been able to hear Luka saying those words, and as he did he got angrier and angrier. When Abby wouldn't say what the line meant he had felt almost like screaming out loud – the blood had been boiling in his veins and everything had felt unreal. When he then heard Gallant's "it means 'I love you', doesn't it" it was as if someone, supposedly Luka, had hit him hard. He hadn't been able to listen to Abby's pleading words for hours, he had been so furious. Furious and scared, scared like hell. He was just as scared now. He didn't think Abby was buying it, but still… only the thought… He was not going to loose her! Not now, not ever. Especially not because of a line said a year too late by a suicidal freak he hated.  
"You know what I'm talking about."  
"No, I don't...!"  
"Yes you do!"  
"Would you tell me what you're accusing me of?!"  
"Oh come on Kovac! It was pathetic to write it, but to deny that you did it…"  
"What the hell are you talking about?!"  
"You know what the hell I'm talking about, and I want you to know that you're never getting close to Abby again! You're never…-"'  
"Shut up!"  
"No you do that! You're never getting close to Abby again, I'll make sure you don't!"  
"Is that a threat?"  
"You…-"  
Suddenly a woman's voice interrupted them.  
"Doctor Carter, what in Jesus' name are you doing?!"  
Both Luka and Carter immediately turned their attention to the door in which Leyla Anderson, head of the psych ward, was standing. She let go of the door handle and walked up to the bed.  
"One can hear you all the way to…-"  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Anderson," Carter said, feeling short of breath.  
"Well, you should be," she said, putting weight on every word. "Both of you!" she added, turned to Luka. "I don't understand you two – doctors both of you, fighting like five-year-olds…"  
"Well, if you didn't let maniacs like him in here, then maybe…-" Luka ranted.  
"If anyone is a maniac here, then it's you!" Carter replied angrily, both he and Luka forgetting all about Leyla.  
"Get the hell out of here!" Luka yelled, pointing at the door. "Get out!!"  
"He's on his way," Leyla said and pushed Carter towards the door. "But Dr. Kovac, you have to calm down…-" she tried to reach out for his hand and got it for a second before he pulled out of her grip.  
"Get off of me!"  
"Dr. Kovac, you…-"  
"Get out! Get the hell out of here the both of you before I strangle you!"  
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking strictly at him before leaving the room with Carter behind her.  
"Doctors **are** the worst patients, mark my words."  
  
The rage was still pounding inside of him when the door slammed closed. He tried to lean back and close his eyes, but he was too mad. The anger made the headache come back and he had to start counting his breaths again so he would be able to lie still.  
How dared that man talk about Danijela like that? How dared he?! As if he had known her, as if he knew anything at all about her! And then accuse him of writing some damn letter. What was that all about? He never wrote letters, people who got them had always complained about not being able to read his handwriting, so why would he bother wasting trees?  
  
At least now he knew how he felt about Carter, he thought between the deep breaths.  
He hated him. He hated him - pure and simple.  
  
Carter slammed the door behind him. In order to keep his temper down and not to throw the first thing he saw straight across the room he had to use all the strength he possibly possessed. He pressed the elevator buttons hard, and swore out aloud when nothing happened. He was certainly not staying at this place one more minute. As the elevator finally arrived he stepped inside he felt his hands shake as they always did when he was angry.  
  
***  
  
Susan stood at the admit desk, impatiently waiting for Carter to come back from the psych. She was very happy that he finally had agreed to talk to Luka as she wanted, but she still was worried. It was not a secret that Carter and Luka didn't always get along, and Luka's stubbornness together with his abstinence and pride would probably not help.  
"Susan! Would you stop that!"  
Kerry's annoyed voice almost made Susan jump out of her skin.  
"What…?" She asked, caught totally off guard.  
"Would you please stop playing with that pen! It is very annoying."  
"Sorry," Susan said with an embarrassed smile, putting away her favourite pen that she had been tapping against the desk the past minutes.  
"What are you so nervy about anyway?"  
"I'm not"  
"You have been walking around like a zombie the past twenty minutes, driving both me and Frank crazy! Go and have a cup of coffee, take a walk or whatever but please stop acting like if you were taking your SAT's any minute."  
"I can't!"  
"Why not?"  
"I'm waiting for Carter to come back, he's up at the psych trying to talk Luka into letting us help him."  
"Help him? What do you mean?"  
"I mean …" Susan began, almost telling Kerry about the Valium problem when she realized to whom she was speaking.  
"What?" Kerry asked in a voice that didn't tolerate any 'no's' or 'buts'.  
Susan felt trapped – she was trapped. If she told Kerry she might tell Romano who might do what he probably should have months ago. But there was no way she was going to get out of this now either. Where was a bad MVA when you needed one, she thought desperately, staring at the doors as if the paramedics were standing outside with a gurney and the doors were controlled by her eyes.  
"Well?" Kerry's eyes, looking at her over the glasses, were demanding for an answer. Susan made a pained sound.  
"If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Romano."  
If possible Kerry's voice got even more demanding.  
"Susan! What is going on?!"  
"Promise!"  
"You know I can't."  
"You have to! Otherwise I won't tell you!" She knew she used a three-year-old's logic, but she couldn't help it. If Kerry told Romano he would fire Luka and make him loose the last thing he had that kept – if not the patients, so at least him - alive.  
"You tell me now, and then I decide whether I tell Robert or not. Now!"  
Susan was almost jumping up and down, she felt so uncomfortable. It was as if she betrayed Luka, even though he hadn't even said straight out that he was addicted. He didn't need to. No one who hadn't been using Valium for a while could have survived such a dose, and he had the clearest abstinence.  
"Err…" she groaned, looked away for a second and then back at Kerry.  
"Luka has been on Valium all autumn. He's totally addicted and…-"  
"Has he been on Valium here too?" Kerry asked sharply.  
"I don't know! No, yes, PROBABLY!"  
Susan gave up. She was not going to win this battle. She looked down at her shoes.  
"Kerry, please…"  
"I have to tell Robert."  
"No… you don't understand! If you do it will be the last nail in Luka's coffin!"  
"You know the rules, Susan"  
"But then you'll be responsible for his death! Do you want that on your conscience? Look…-" She took a deep breath, talking fast so Kerry wouldn't interrupt.  
"…- Carter is up there now, trying to make Luka agree to admit himself."  
"To a rehab?"  
Susan nodded.  
"Well, if he does, he won't be fired…-"  
"Thank you!"  
"…- unless he hasn't killed anyone or…-"  
"Please, Kerry! He is depressed, addicted, totally broken down on every level! You can't turn him in now, it'll kill him!"  
"I…-"  
Kerry was interrupted by Carter coming out of the elevator and walking up to them at the desk. She tried to read the look on his face – something that for once was impossible.  
"Well…?" She asked as he reached them.  
"Well what?" he asked and reached for a chart. She stopped him and looked right at him.  
"How did it go?" she asked, annoyed with him not answering straight away. He sighed, put down the chart and turned back to her.  
"It didn't. Just as I told you it wouldn't."  
"Did you even try?" she asked, suddenly almost angry.  
"What do you think?!"  
"I think that you didn't even want to try," she said icily.  
"What happened?" Kerry interrupted. "Did he tell you for how long he's been on the pills?"  
Carter gave Susan a confused look.  
"I had to tell her," Susan said anxiously and Carter nodded.  
"Good. Then maybe you could make sure he's out of here for good then," he said to Kerry.  
Susan didn't believe her ears.  
"What?! I thought you wanted to help him, not kill him!"  
"That man…-" Carter said coldly, slightly nodding towards the ceiling and the psych ward "- is a mess. A serious mess."  
"I know that, that's why we have to help him," she snapped, but Carter shook his head.  
"Count me out," Carter replied, still in that cold voice she didn't like one bit.  
"That man…-"  
"He's got a name!"  
"…- is a freak and he's right where he belongs!" Carter continued angrily, ignoring her input. "He's a dangerous maniac who kills patients and who ever else that gets in his way!"'  
"What the hell are you talking about?!"  
"He threatened to strangle me!"  
"What the hell did you say to him?" she asked furiously, almost surprised over her own reaction. Carter stared at her.  
"What **I **said? For Christ's sake Susan, don't you see that he's totally out of control?"  
"He is not out of control, he has Valium abstinence," she said as if it was the first time she told Carter this.  
"You don't throw death threats around you when you have abstinence! You throw up, your hands shake and a bunch other nasty things happen, but you don't threaten to strangle the ones who are trying to help you"  
Susan snorted.  
"I'm going up," she said and turned around, still able to hear Carter behind her.  
"What good would that do?"   
"Apparently I'm the only one who cares!" she almost yelled, still totally shocked with herself.  
"Well, the rest of us have limits," he said coldly. She stopped halfway to the elevators.  
"Why are all of you like that?" she asked turned to both Kerry and Carter. "Why don't you care?"  
"Susan, we do care," Kerry said in her nice voice. "We're just a bit…- I don't know – surprised is probably not the word, but…"  
"A more proper question would probably be why are **YOU** like that?" Carter said and looked straight at Susan.  
"Why am I like what?"  
"Totally devoted to this, as if it was your lifetime mission or something! You've been at his bedside 24/7 ever since he came in, even more than his brother has been! What are you – in love with him, or something?"  
  
Susan felt as if Carter had thrown a glass of ice-cold water on her. She just stared at him, not saying a word.  
"Susan…!"  
She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her lips together before replying.  
"I'm not answering that!"  
"Don't be childish! It's a simple question."  
"No, it's a **stupid** question and I don't answer stupid questions! Just because I care I don't have to…-" She interrupted herself and started walking towards the elevator again, hitting the button hard when she reached it.  
"I don't have to explain myself to you!"  
She heard Kerry call her name when the doors close behind her, but she ignored it and leaned against the wall. What was going on? Apparently something had gone down between Luka and Carter – what it was she didn't know, but probably not something pretty. The elevator stopped and she stepped out, surprised that she still heard Kerry yell for her.  
"Dr Lewis! Dr Lewis!!"  
She turned around, just to see that it wasn't Kerry but Leyla Anderson coming running towards her.  
"What now," she thought impatiently to herself. She wanted to go to Luka and ask him what the hell was going on – not talk to that shrink. Dr Anderson was infamous at the whole hospital for her besserwisser attitude and talkative personality, maybe she was good with manic patients but most other people simply couldn't stand her. But that was not something you could let show. So she put on her best smile.  
"Yes?"  
"Are you on your way to Dr. Kovac?"  
Susan nodded.  
"Well, maybe you can make him calm down a bit," Leyla said, sounding pretty worn out.  
"What do you mean…?"  
"I mean that he is giving me more headache than the rest of the patients all together! He is fighting my every decision and after that fight with Dr Carter…-"  
Susan frowned.  
"What fight…?"  
"One could hear them to the other side of the ward! I don't know what happened, just that one minute Dr Carter comes up here and the next…-"  
"Oh Jesus," Susan groaned and rolled her eyes. "I'd better…-" she nodded towards Luka's room in the middle of the corridor and set off in that direction before Leyla had the time to say anything else in her hoarse voice.  


Luka was lying on the bed when she carefully opened the door. She went up to the foot of the bed where she stopped and crossed her arms over her chest.  
"I hear you had a falling out with Carter earlier?"  
He had been lying there with closed eyes, and she realized that she hadn't even checked if he was awake or not. Just as she was about to repeat her sort-of-question he opened his eyes and gave her a confused look.  
"Falling out…?"  
"A fight," she explained and went closer to him.  
"Wanna tell me what it was about…?" she asked softly and sat down at his bedside. He muttered something she couldn't hear.  
"What?"  
"Nothing," he muttered and she rolled her eyes.  
"Oh come on, Luka!" She took his hand and tried to force him into looking at her, but he turned his head against the wall.  
"Luka!" she said again in the same demanding voice. "Tell me what it was all about, and don't tell me 'nothing' because Carter had a face like thunder when he came down from here earlier."  
Still nothing, and she sighed.  
"What was it about? You? Him? Valium? Rehab? Abby?" She tried every option she could come up with, but Luka still refused to answer. She sighed again and let go of his hand.  
"Well – I'll go then…-" she said and rose up "…- since you're obviously not going to tell me anything I'll just have to ask Carter."  
Hearing her say that, understanding that he must have made her too hate him gave him the strength to sit up and grab her hand.  
"No… Don't…please, don't…"  
She let him take her hand and moved closer to him to take a through look at him. It surprised her that he had been able to sit up that fast or at all for that matter, but he still seemed pretty lost. The scared look in his eyes almost scared _her_.  
"Please don't hate me…." He begged, looking her straight in the eye. "Please don't… not you too…"  
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand.  
"I don't hate you …-" she said, "…-nobody does."  
"Carter does… and Abby… when she hears what I said to him she will hate me, among with everybody else…"  
"They understand that you were upset," Susan said gently. "Everybody says freaky things when they're mad."  
He was apparently not listening.  
"I didn't mean to…" he began, his voice and hands trembling. "But he talked about her as if he knew her… I couldn't help it…"  
Susan frowned and tried to make him look at her where she stood just a few inches from him.  
"The way he talked about who…? Luka, I'm not sure I'm really with you now. Would you please explain what you…-"  
"He talked about her as if he knew her, as if he knew what she was like…"  
She realized he kept saying "was", not "is". She had been sure he was talking about Abby, but apparently not.  
"Did Carter say something about Danijela…?" she tried, pulling a wild guess. Finally, Luka nodded, his hands and voice shaking even worse.  
"I knew he was right but I couldn't stand listening to it… I knew he was right but I couldn't…" He was breathing heavily, as if he tried not to cry, and when the breathing didn't help he tried to get up from the bed to get away.  
"No, no… Luka, you have to stay there…" she said, putting her hands on his shoulders to try and stop him from moving. She was a bit scared - he was so much bigger than she, she wouldn't be able to keep him down if he didn't stop fighting against her, and if he got up he would probably fall since he still was so weak.  
"Luka, please, you have to sit down, you'll only hurt yourself if you get up…" She didn't know if it was her words or not that stopped him, she doubted it since he seemed very confused right now, but at least he was still.  
"If you want to get up and out of this room for a while I could go and get you a wheel chair…-" she began but he shook his head heavily.  
"Are you sure? This room can make anyone a bit crazy," she smiled, trying to calm him down.  
"No!"  
"OK, then," she said, deciding this was not a good time to argue with him "…- then maybe you should try to get some sleep. You need your rest"  
"I can't," he said in a thick voice.  
"I could get you something," she said, still trying to get his full attention, but he just stared at the floor.  
"No!"  
"But if I got you something that helped you to sleep you would feel much better," she said, feeling pretty helpless since she suspected that he wasn't really aware of what was going on – he hadn't called her Danijela yet, but she feared that he once again didn't see her but his dead wife in front of him.  
"No," he said again, his voice still trembling.  
"Why won't you let me help you," she asked and gently touched his cheek. "I want to help, just let me."  
"You can't"  
"But I…-"  
"No one can," he sobbed tiredly, sounding as if he had given up for real this time.  
Once again he made a sudden move and in order to stop him she put her hands on his shoulders again. He tried to rise up again but she held him down, moving closer to get a better grip. She wasn't sure if her being so close to him made him uncomfortable so when he calmed down a little she tried to take a few steps backwards, but suddenly he squeezed her hand hard and looked straight up at her. He wasn't crying much, but his voice was shaky and his eyes seemed wet.  
"Please don't go," he pleaded. "Please…!"  
She didn't have any time to assure him she wasn't going anywhere before he made a sudden move, but this time it wasn't to get up.  
"Please don't…" he pleaded again and leaned his head against her chest. "Susan… Please don't leave…"  
Surprised over this sudden storm of emotions and him apparently being fully aware of that she wasn't Danijela she became speechless for a while, but then she wrapped one of her arms around him and started to stroke his hair with her free hand.  
"I'm not going anywhere."  
"Promise me, Susan…" he whispered, still leaning his head against her chest.  
"I promise you," she said softly, leaning her chin on the top of his head and closing her eyes.  
"I'm not leaving you, Luka. I'm not going anywhere."


	6. The second crossing

Author's comments: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm… - Well, I'm sorry this took so long. That is nothing new, is it? But I have a bunch of good excuses like exams, a 20-pages paper on Chile and birthday parties.  
This chapter is even longer than the previous one; I don't know why they keep getting this long! But I like this one - the fifth although ff.net will add it as sixth - myself, and I'm so glad about the reviews on the last one!!! I was a bit worried about it, I have to say. Fights have never been my thing to write (or practise, for that matter).  
Something I suddenly remembered that I haven't mentioned is after which episode this story takes place. That is because I don't really know myself, but I would say "Tell me where it huts" or something. Before "Hindsight". Well that doesn't really matter, maybe, but….  
Anyway, hope you enjoy this (if anyone still is reading this…) and please keep reviewing and I promise to write faster in the summer!!  
  
CHAPTER FIVE : THE SECOND CROSSING 

"I thought I'd come and wish you a bon voyage."  
Luka opened his tired eyes and looked straight at Susan's smiling face as she came closer to the bed. He blinked, sat up a little and gave her a weak smile in return.  
"So I'm going then?"  
"Sure looks that way," she nodded. "I think that even Romano has run out of words down there…-" she said, nodding at the floor, symbolizing the argument that currently took place in the ER.  
"He must be horrified of having found someone that's even better at verbal warfare than he is. Can't be good for his ego."  
She chuckled a little as she sat down on the chair next to the bed. It was starting to feel like she spent all her time in this room – she had stayed there with him almost all night and had just come back to the hospital after going home to change clothes.  
Luka sighed when he heard Susan's short but colourful describtion of his brother's run-in with Romano over whether Luka was or wasn't in condition to take a trip over the Atlantic right now. He had been hoping that Dubravko would have met his verbal Waterloo with Romano, but apparently Dubravko, who always had been stubborn, now had gotten even better at arguing than he ever had been.  
"What is it?"  
He saw the concerned look on Susan's face. Part of him wanted to tell her how little he wanted to leave right now, how unpleasant the thought of spending time with his mother in this condition was, but another part of him felt that he had bothered her enough. So he smiled.  
"So you're telling me that my brother is beating Romano?"  
She smiled. "Looks that way. He has one hell of a temper, your brother"  
He chuckled and looked down at his hands.  
"Yeah…I always doubted she wasn't that good for him"  
Susan frowned, still smiling, happy to see that he was in a better mood than yesterday. She had been a little worried that he'd still be on the warpath, but apparently strangling Carter wasn't on top of his agenda anymore.  
"Who isn't good for whom?"  
"Natalia," Luka said simply, forgetting that Susan wasn't aware of who this remarkable woman was. He saw her confusion and quickly added an explanation.  
"My sister-in-law. _She _has one hell of a temper."  
Susan laughed. "I see… Now when you're mentioning it, I think I heard him talk to someone named Natalia on the phone this morning. He didn't sound too happy."  
"That was her, mark my words. They're nuts –been married for over ten years and have three kids and are still fight like cats and dogs every day. I don't understand how they put up with each other."  
"Well," she smiled, "I guess that proves that the love-hate relationship works outside Hollywood."  
"I suppose," he said. "But still… I don't understand."  
"You'll be able to take a thorough look at how it works over Christmas"  
"I guess…" he said, sounding tired again.  
  
She took a thorough look at him. She had a growing feeling that he wasn't that happy with this journey back home. And she had an even stronger feeling that he was in no condition to travel – with this depression and abstinence he required medical attention. But Dubravko wouldn't listen to that, no matter how many doctors told him so.  
He was determinded to get Luka away from Chicago as soon as possible, no matter what anyone said. Maybe he on some level blamed all of them for what had happened; maybe he thought that everything would be good as soon as Luka got home. But it wasn't that easy, she had told him that earlier. Not only did the Valium abstinence make Luka's mood jump up and down, totally regardless of who was around him – they had seen that yesterday, hadn't they - apart from that he still was unable to eat more than an absolute minimum amount of food without being sick, he was tired, still depressed and suicidal and had an old injury in his leg that kept him from moving normally. The pain in his left leg had rose to new heights last night, forcing them to put him back on Valium – something that probably was the reason for his more talkative mood right now. In a way it actually scared her, how dependent on the pills he was and for how long he had been.  
  
He leaned back against the pillows behind his back and looked at her. What was she thinking? She looked so concerned when she looked at him, her beautiful face holding so many emotions – empathy, an eager to help and make things better – and then there was the third one. The one he couldn't stand.  
Pity. She pitied him, just as everybody else who knew did. He let out a deep sigh. Why did it always come to this?  
  
Him sighing threw her back to reality. She had been so caught up in her thoughts about whether he should travel to Croatia now or not that she hadn't even noticed how his expression had changed from pretty normal to the same tired and beaten expression he had had for days, no, weeks – maybe even months, years. A decade? A lifetime? No, he had been happy once, she knew that. She just wished she had known him then.  
She moved closer to him.  
"What's wrong?" she asked softly, but he turned away and looked at the wall. He just couldn't face her.  
"Luka…?"  
Still nothing. She reached for his hand.  
"Luka, look at me," she said gently.

He kept staring at the wall, feeling worse than ever. He didn't want to hurt her, never and in no way, but he couldn't look at her, not now when he knew what she thought, what she thought of him. It was so ironic. The softness in her voice that he had clung to when things had been at its worst last night – it was there because she pitied him. He had wished it would be because of something else, that this time would be different. He didn't know exactly what he had hoped for; he had never dared to think that far. But certainly there had been something deep inside of him that had hoped it wouldn't be because of pity that she had stayed with him when everybody else had given up.  
Her voice was so soft, so gentle. He wanted her to keep talking to him, wanted her words to comfort him and let him inside the warm and cosy world he had felt locked out of for years. But he couldn't let her, because she pitied him.  
What else was new?  
He felt her hand on his forehead once again, making him shiver. Why was she making it so hard for him to ask her to stop?  
"Why aren't you talking to me?" she asked, still caressing his forehead gently with that light and fresh touch that had brought him back from the unconsciousness only days earlier. He only sighed as an answer and closed his eyes. He couldn't fight back – didn't want to fight back.  
"Is this about what happened last night?" she suddenly asked as if it was the most normal thing in this world.  
  
She looked closely at him, waiting for his answer even though she believed she already knew it. He was so proud, the walls inside of him so high and thick. She wanted to get through to him, wanted to comfort him and desperately wanted to help him. If he would just let her in, let down his walls and talk to her as he had last night when he had told her so much.  
He had told her what it felt like to take the pills in the morning, driving to County, seeing a few patients before going up to the roof for a break – the only place he could drink without being seen. How he'd then go down, hoping it didn't show that he was drunk. How he got through the days on routines he had learned years ago but how he still always screwed up somehow in the middle of his shift, and how he would go and take another dose because his leg would be hurting like hell by then.  
He had told her everything, and she had listened. Sometimes she had asked something, sometimes she had helped him to drink when he was too tired to do it himself, but mostly she had been listening. Only been there, listened to him, comforted him.  
  
Last night she had thought she had gotten through to him, that she finally had gotten through his walls. When she had left the room in the early morning hours she had been happy to hear from Dubravko that they apparently were going home for Christmas. But now he was closed up again, and she was pretty sure that he didn't want to go.  
He sighed again and slowly opened his eyes, turning back to her. Her heart ached for him when she looked into those deep, sad eyes.  
"I don't want your pity, Susan," he said slowly but clearly, his words leaving her surprised.  
  
"I don't pity you," she then said and squeezed his hand. "I want to help you to get out of this mess, I don't look down on you or pity you."  
"You don't?" he asked, not really knowing what to think. She sounded true. Was she? Was the soft voice and the gentle hands not something that had come out of pity, but of something else? Could it be?  
"I promise," she said.  
"I think you should talk to me," she added, still caressing his forehead, now reaching better when he wasn't turned away from her. "You have been alone with this for so long, I want to help you to get away from it. To get on with your life."  
  
To get on with his life… He tasted the words. What did they mean?  
"What life?" he asked ironically.  
"Your life," she simply answered. "The life you deserve."  
"I don't have a life anymore," he said, not as ironically.  
"Don't say that."  
"It's true," he said, making a pause before continuing. "I'm not asking you to understand," he then said,  
"…-because I know you can't, but…-"  
"But I do understand, Luka," she said quietly. "I have skeletons in my closet too."  
Now it was his turn to take a thorough look at her. She…?  
"You probably don't know my sister…-" she began, looking down at the floor.  
  
She told him everything about Chloe, how she was an on/off addict, how she abandoned little Susie who wasn't that little anymore and had began to understand that her mom wasn't like everybody else's, how Chloe would show up whenever, wherever and how she would screw up everything in her way. How their parents didn't care and how helpless she had felt all those months, years in Arizona, trying to turn Chloe's life back on track. How she realized she couldn't do it all by herself even though she always had tried to manage on her own, and how she finally let people help her.  
He listened closely to every word she said, sometimes appalled by her sister's doings, sometimes just sad over what she had had to go through by herself before getting help. But mostly he was amazed by what she had been through, and how strong she was. She was definitely tougher than she looked.  
  
"I know that it isn't easy to ask for help, Luka. Trust me, I know. Back then, a few years ago, I would rather have died than to let people know what my sister was like. But I stopped blaming myself. I'm not saying that it's easy, because it's not, but if you get help, then it will be a thousand times easier."  
"You did that?"  
"Yes. I had to let down my walls, had to let people help me."  
"And they did…?"  
"Yes. Both before I left Chicago, and when I came back. Carter, social services, a shrink…-" she made a pause and sighed "… and Mark. Maybe most of all…"  
She looked down at the floor, blinking away the tears burning behind her eyes. He watched her helplessly for a few seconds before turning on to his side and leaning on his elbow. It hurt when he moved, but he did it slowly, reaching out with his hand, gently touching her cheek.  
"You were brave," he said softly, caressing her cheek. He felt her shivering under his fingers.  
"You are braver than me," he added, feeling a desperate need for her to smile again. It was unfair that she had had to take care of a grown sister all her life, a sister who had screwed up her life by doing drugs. He felt as if someone had punched him when he realized that he was an addict himself. Why didn't she hate him? She if anyone had the right to – but she didn't. Why did she put up with him?  
She looked up at him, smiling although her eyes were wet. She tried to hide it, but he saw.  
"You're crying," he said gently.  
"No… I'm not," she said, shaking her head, trying to stop the tears from coming. She didn't want to cry in front of him, didn't want to give him even more grief than he already had.  
"Yes you are…" he said, his thumb still caressing her cheek. She looked straight at him, about to repeat that she wasn't crying, but as soon as she saw how worried about her he was the tears filled her eyes, her not being able to stop them. Good grief, did she have to break down now?  
"Come here," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't protest, just leaned against his shoulder, crying. He turned to lie on his back again and leaned back against the pillows, everything hurting by the slightest move, but slowly but surely he managed to lie down with her arms wrapped around him.  
Moving around had made him exhausted, but still he slowly raised his hands and began to gently stroke her hair with the right one, wrapping the left arm around her shoulders.  
  
She closed her eyes in a failing attempt to stop the tears from falling and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She felt him slowly stroking her hair; something that made her cry even more and she buried her face in his dark blue sweater, hoping her make-up wouldn't leave stains.  
She cried over everything that could have been, should have been and would have been if things hadn't gone as they had. If she hadn't left, if they hadn't lost touch, if Mark hadn't met Elizabeth… If, when and why, three questions that had been haunting her. If things had turned out differently, when had they taken their turn towards what they had turned out to be, and why had they?  
  
He gazed down at her as he stroke her hair. He knew why she was crying, and he wished he could help her, make her tears go away. But he was too tired; he was too tired even to say something right now. When he finally got the strength to say something he couldn't come up with what to say. What could he possibly say to make her feel better? He knew exactly how she felt, but he knew no way out of it.  
  
The wall clock ticking was the only sound filling the room when her tears started to dry. She was still sobbing, but more quietly now, tiredly. She didn't remember when she had cried last, even less when someone last had comforted her.  
Suddenly he broke the silence.  
"You were very close, weren't you?" he asked.  
She sat up, hoping her mascara hadn't run all over her face. She touched the skin under her eyes in order to wipe away any color traces, but he shook his head as to say that there was nothing to wipe away. He looked at her and waited patiently as she ran her hand through her hair before answering.  
"Yes, we were… best friends. Once we even though that maybe it should be the two of us, like, … - or, well you know…"  
"I know," he assured her.  
"But we realized later that he was better off with Elizabeth and I…- well, haven't met Him yet, but…-"  
She bit her lip.  
"It was hard in the beginning; when I came back and realized that they were married. I didn't want to realize that it wasn't supposed to be us after all. Then I got used to it and he became like a brother to me, but it was painful at first."  
"Yes, that's not the most pleasant thing to realize," Luka sighed, looking down at his hands once again. Susan who was starting to get pretty good at reading his thoughts, understood what he meant.  
"Abby, right?" she asked softly.  
He nodded slowly, still looking down.  
"Yeah…-"  
"It has been pretty hard for you, her with Carter, right?"  
"It doesn't really matter," he said, sighing. "I'm not really in any position to judge."  
"Because of the break-up?" she asked, already knowing the answer.  
"So she told you," he sighed, even deeper this time.  
"Yeah… we had this discussion once, about what's the most hurtful thing you've ever been told…-" she said before interrupting herself. Damn, damn, damn! She had been so caught up in her crying and him being the one comforting that she totally had forgotten why they were here.  
"Look, I'm…-"  
He didn't seem too moved though.  
"Don't be," he said, knowing what she was going to say.  
"I know what I said," he added. "Trust me, I know – it's been playing in my head over and over again ever since," he said a bit quieter.  
"You still love her," she said, feeling a bit odd.  
He frowned a little.  
"You said so," she continued.  
He frowned even more.  
"When…? What…?"  
"In the letter," she said, looking closely at him.  
"You don't remember…?" she asked, seeing that he didn't.  
"No…"  
"You wrote a letter. Several actually. One to your family, one to the one who found you…- and one to Abby."  
"I did…?" he sighed.  
"Yes. And you wrote that you loved her."  
"She told you that too?" he asked, a bit surprised. He hadn't known that Susan and Abby were so good friends.  
"No, she didn't have to. I heard it."  
"Heard it?"  
"She made Carter read it to her. He didn't want to…-" she added when she remembered the fight yesterday,  
"…- but she made him. And she made me listen."  
  
He closed his eyes. God, Carter had been right… He had been right all along. No wonder he had been furious.  
"So he was right then," he said tiredly, opening his eyes.  
"Who was right?"  
"Carter. He was furious about that letter, and wanted me to tell him why the hell I had written it… but I didn't remember it then either, so I thought he was making it up."  
She couldn't help but to smile.  
"So that was when you threatened to strangle him," she said, still smiling. Of course this was not funny, but regardless there still was something tragicomic in this whole mess.  
"You seem to be keeping pretty good track of what I say," he said dryly.  
"It's a bit hard not to, as long as you keep making scenes like that," she smiled. He just sighed, making her unsure of what he felt. She had to know. She didn't know why she so badly wanted him to confirm this – it shouldn't be any of her busniess, after all.  
"So, you do still love her."  
He was quiet for a while, and then he replied. His reply surprised her.  
"No," he said, "I don't."  
"No?" she asked, feeling stupid.  
"No, I don't," he repeated. "I thought I did, but I don't. I wanted to, but I didn't. Maybe I never did," he added in a voice that was trailing off.  
"I'm sure you did," she said softly.  
"No, I didn't," he said, his voice even shakier.  
"I told her I did and made her believe it…-"  
She shook her head and took his hand.  
"Luka, don't do this…-" she began.  
"But it's true! I couldn't love her and she knew it, so she went to Carter. I am not able to love anyone like they deserve, and therefore…-"  
"Don't say that therefore you can't be loved," she interrupted him. "That is **not** true, Luka."  
"It is."  
"No, it's not! You know it's not…!"  
He just looked down.  
"Don't talk about yourself like that," she said a bit softer. Still no reply.  
"Luka, look at me! I know you're tired and beaten and feel like everything is hopeless – but it's not. You'll see, it's not. Now when you'll get home to your family…-"  
"Yeah, that'll be great, he said ironically. "My mother, the very person I need to listen to right now." 

"She can't be worse than mine," Susan said, rolling her eyes at the thought of what her mother could be like. Luka smiled.  
"Oh, I'm sure my mother is worse. There's another thing I don't understand how Dubravko and Natalia put up with."  
"They all live under the same roof?" she asked, having gotten that impression when she called his house that night.  
"Dubravko and his family still live with our parents. They are seven persons in a house that was too small to fit the five of us…"  
"Sounds cosy," Susan smiled.  
"Well, I wouldn't know what it's like now, but when I still lived there one didn't exactly have any room to breathe."  
He saw her smile and began to smile himself.  
"I wonder where he is planning to put me – the basement is probably the only place not occupied with anything else than my father's paintings."  
"Well, there you'd be in peace and quiet, at least," Susan said, both of them laughing.  
"You have a pretty big family, don't you?" she then asked.  
"Well," he said. "I have two brothers and my mother and father, plus of course my sister in-laws and more nieces and nephews than I can count… well, maybe not, but I don't know them all that well – they were born after I had left for Rome…-"  
"You lived in Rome?" she asked surprised.  
He nodded.  
"For three years. Sometimes I don't remember why I ever left."  
"I guess the weather was a whole lot nicer," she said. "In Arizona it was wonderful, but it was still a bit too much…"  
"Well, as I said, I hardly recall why I left. Italy is wonderful – everything, the climate, the people…"  
"… And the food," she added smiling. "I can't imagine what my life would be like without ice-cream."  
He chuckled.  
"Or pizza."  
  
They were quiet for a while, and she looked out of the window. It had stopped snowing and the sun was shining, making the snow on the ground look like diamonds. It was a perfect winter day and the Christmas carolers were already walking around town, trying to make all the busy Chicago people stop and think about the miracles preformed by God instead of rushing like maniacs. It never worked on her.  
"What date is it?" he suddenly asked.  
"December 5th" she answered, turning back to him.  
"And I have been here since…?"  
"Since December 1st. You were in the ICU the first three days."  
He nodded.   
"When did Dubravko get here?"  
"He came here the same day that you woke up – two days ago."  
"Right…" he said, trying to put all the dates and times at their right places.  
"He came as soon as he could," she said.  
"Was it you that called him?"  
"Yes. Abby told me his name."   
"I guess I must have told her about him then," he said, trying to scan through his mind.  
"At least you told him about her. He told me that he actually thought I was Abby for a second…"  
Luka chuckled.  
"I hope he didn't give you too much grief for that."  
"Why would he have?"  
"Well… I don't know…" he began, not really wanting to admit why.  
"Come on," she laughed, "what did you tell him?"  
"Nothing…! Oh, well, maybe something not that nice right after the break-up… Nothing I meant, though! It just kind of slipped out, and I'm afraid Dubravko tends to get stuck on details…"  
Susan laughed even more.  
"So you were afraid that he might have said something… _unfitting _to me because he thought I was Abby? I would really want to know what it was that you let 'slip out'," she added, smiling widely.  
"You needn't worry about that…"  
"Hey – I almost got verbally attacked because of it!"  
He laughed.  
"Trust me, it was nothing. He's just a bit overprotective, that's all."  
She decided to drop whatever Luka had let 'slip out' about Abby, he wouldn't tell her anyway.  
"He's overprotective of you?"  
"Oh yes. Have always been and will always be. This whole mess hasn't really helped, I'm afraid."  
"You younger or older?" she asked curiously. From the few differences obvious on the outside she had managed to find between Dubravko and Luka, she had come to the conclusion of Luka being the older one. Maybe it was because he simply looked older or then maybe because Dubravko seemed to be younger. Therefore she was surprised by his answer.  
"Younger," he said, smiling at her surprised look.  
"Really?" she said "how much?"  
"Just two years."  
He saw the look on her face, or more likely – he saw how she tried to hide her surprise.  
"And don't you dare to say that I look older, because I know I do," he joked.  
"I wasn't going to say that," she said, feeling her cheeks burning a bit.  
"Sure you did," he laughed.  
"I did not"  
"Yes you did."  
"I did not," she laughed.

"Are you close, Dubravko and you?" she then asked, having calmed down a little. Of some reason it felt so easy to talk to him right now, even though it was the straight opposite of what it should have felt like – him lying there in the hospital bed at the psych ward at the hospital they both worked at, committed after a suicide attempt she had managed to stop. It should have felt weird. But it didn't. It felt good. They were talking and laughing as if they were old friends and he only was there at some anonymous hospital because of some car accident or something, with wounds no deeper than that talking could cure them. But deep inside she knew this was all a facade she was desperate to keep up.  
  
He took a close look at her, realizing that he was gazing at her from under his hair that, as if cursed, always fell over his eyes. He had thought that he knew what she was thinking, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. Why did she put up with him? In a way he didn't even want to know. It just felt so good to be here, talking to her, laughing with her… He hadn't felt this good for a very long time – that permanent hang over had started to feel like his normal state. He desperately wanted to think, to believe, that it was all over now, that she had managed to cure it.  
But everytime he raised his hands, to pick up the water glass, to drag a hand through his hair too keep it from falling in his eyes, when he had reached out to caress her cheek – his hands were shaking. Everytime he laughed, no matter how genuine it was, a headache stroke him and it felt as if the bells of the St Peter's Cathedral were ringing inside of his head. It wasn't gone - it might never leave.  
  
Suddenly he remembered that she had asked him a question.  
"I guess we are," he said. "Deep down. But mostly we like to disagree on most things."  
"Yeah, that sounds familiar," she sighed.  
"You and your sister like that?" he asked, a bit careful, not knowing whether she wanted to talk about Chloe or not.  
"Yeah…" she said quietly, "… - sometimes I really, really love her, you know..."  
"Of course you do," he said calmly, looking straight at her, gently taking her hands in his.  
She met his eyes, squeezing his hand.  
"You don't find it strange that I love an addict like that?"

He freed one of his hands and tried to get it to stop shaking. It didn't, and neither did the church bells stop ringing inside his head. But it didn't matter, and it was as if he didn't hear it. He leaned on his elbow again, raising the free hand to caress her cheek once again.  
"No," he said simply after what felt like an eternal silence. "I don't find it weird at all."  
She smiled at him and shivered a little. She could feel how he gently touched her chin and his thumb caressing her cheek, his hands so warm and tender.  
He caressed her skin and she closed her eyes, not realizing she did it. They were only inches apart, as close as a man and a woman can be without kissing. She didn't know what this closeness meant. How come they always seemed to end up in positions like this?  
  
He saw her closing her eyes and felt her squeezing his hand tightly. What did it mean? What did she want him to do? What did he want to do? He didn't know.  
  
She damned herself for reacting like this. He was just a man, someone she had worked with for eighteen months, someone she had joked and laughed with, someone she had comforted and been comforted by. Why did she react like this to him touching her? She didn't know.  
  
***  
  
Dubravko stepped inside the room, loudly muttering something in Croatian. He took a few steps forward without even expecting Luka to answer him, but when a few seconds had passed and no reply came he repeated his words, now turning towards the bed.  
He interrupted himself when he saw Luka caressing Susan's cheek and how she smiled at him when he did it. They hadn't even noticed that he was there.  
"Oh," he said, now with a big grin on his face and in English, "…- am I interrupting something…?".  
  
He could have paid a million dollars to get to see Luka's reaction to this line again. Susan's too, for that matter. She straightened her back where she was sitting at the chair next to the bed, he laid back against the pillows, both of them looking like if they had gotten caught red-handed.  
"No, you're not," Luka then said, not sounding very convincing.  
"I think I did," Dubravko replied teasingly in Croatian.  
"Well, then you're wrong," Luka snapped, not wanting Susan to be uncomfortable. Not that she understood any of what they were saying, but Dubravko could be annoying no matter what language he spoke.  
"How did it go with Romano?" Susan asked, trying to change the subject and desperately trying to get her face colour back to normal. She feared she was blushing pretty badly, her cheeks felt like they were burning up, as if Dubravko had caught them in a much more compromising position than he actually had. She understood very well that he and Luka were in the middle of a brotherly argument about this - she could hear that in Dubravko's teasing voice and in Luka's annoyed replies. Now when she knew the age difference between them it was perfectly obvious to her that Luka was the younger one. It was just something in the way they acted.  
"I won," Dubravko answered her question with a triumphant look on his face that made Luka groan.  
"I hope you didn't insult him too much"  
"What do you mean?" Dubravko laughed. "I just gave him my opinion on a few things."  
"Well, he's still my boss," Luka said. "You don't have to be so eager to get me fired, I'd probably be out of here anyway."  
"Don't you worry, we came to an agreement – you and me, brother dear, are out of here," he added dramatically.  
Luka snorted.  
"Why am I not relieved?"  
"When are you leaving?" Susan interrupted, once again feeling the need of verbally having to go between the brothers.  
"Tonight," Dubravko answered in English. "I just have to get the tickets."  
Luka almost screamed.  
"You haven't got that yet?! Jesus, Dubravko, how come…-"  
"Stop it Luka!" Susan said, then turning to Dubravko again. "Go and make a few phone calls, I'm sure you find something."  
  
When he left Luka leaned back again.  
"Was I too hard on him?"  
"Well, he **is** your brother. And he is only trying to help."  
"I know, I know," Luka sighed. "He just drives me crazy sometimes."  
"Well, that's pretty obvious," Susan smiled.  
"I know… we used to drive the whole village nuts when we were younger."  
She frowned.  
"I thought you were from Zagreb?"  
"No, we're from a suburban village, but Dubravko usually say we're from Zagreb."  
"Why would he do that?"  
"It's easier. And sounds better, I guess…. It's not the best suburb, if I may say so."  
"Oh…"  
  
Susan was quiet for a while before she opened her mouth again.  
"Do you want to go, Luka? Really?"  
He sighed deeply.  
"I don't know. I really don't know, Susan..." he said, his voice telling her 'no, I don't'.  
"It would only be over Christmas, you'll be back here in a heart beat," she said in a more cheery voice than she had expected. Somehow she was relieved that he didn't want to go.  
  
Luka sighed again, this time in another way. This was getting more difficult than he had thought.  
At first he had fought the idea of going home, then he had thought it'd be for the best – he had nothing left here. When Dubravko began to fight Romano and Kerry's decisions he had been torn between wanting and not wanting to go. Dubravko hadn't listened, neither had Dr. Anderson who probably was more relieved than anything to get rid of him.  
Maybe it was for the best. That was what he had thought, but now everything was different once again.  
"We are not only talking about Christmas here, Susan," he finally said.  
She was startled. What did he mean…?  
"Pardon…?" she said, smiling to hide her shock.  
"I'm going to leave for longer than just Christmas," he said.  
She felt as if the rug had been pulled from under her feet. What in God's name was he saying?!  
"But…- you will come back, won't you?"  
He didn't answer, just looked down.  
"Luka! You will come back won't you?!"  
"I don't know, Susan," he said, once again sounding dreadfully tired.  
"I might not…"  
"But…-"  
"He spoke to Kerry earlier this morning," Luka continued. "They are getting a replacement for me that will stay through this year…"  
"But it's just a month left of this year," she interrupted.  
"…- or permanently."  
Susan shook her head heavily.  
"No, no…- Luka, I don't understand. I thought you didn't want to go?!"  
He sighed.  
"I said I didn't know. And I don't. I'm still not sure this trip will be good for me and I'm not very fond of flying…"  
"So don't go then!"  
"But…"  
"It's not that simple, Susan."  
"Why not? Just stay here."  
"I can't."  
"Why not?!"  
"I can't be here anymore, Susan. I can't work, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to again."  
"Of course you will," she said, a bit softer.  
"Why didn't you say something?" she asked.  
"I… I don't know. Didn't want to, I guess."  
"Because you don't want to leave," she concluded.  
"Because it feels as if I'm giving up," he corrected calmly.  
"You're not giving up. Far from it"  
"It still feels like it," he sighed. "You see, Susan… I've always tried too hard. Always tried to be successful, to be something, to be someone worth something."  
"But you are," she said softly. "You are."  
He shook his head and sighed.  
"I guess my father-in-law was right," he said, sounding just as sarcastic and ironic as he always did while talking about himself.  
"About what?"  
"About me. He used to say that I was just an actor…"  
"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised.  
"He never thought I was good enough"  
"For Danijela…?"  
He just nodded, looking down.  
"Why would he think that?" Susan asked softly.  
Luka sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, and then looked up.  
"My family…- we're all what people like my father in-law likes to call 'irresponsible rabble'."  
He added the last in a voice that told her that he indeed had been called 'irresponsible rabble' several times.  
"All worthless actors…" he muttered and looked down again. She could see that he was angry, that thinking about this brought back both bad and painful memories.  
"You know that my father is a painter, right?" he then asked, looking at her, not seeming as furious anymore. She nodded.  
"My father-in-law was, and I suppose he still is, some kind of businessman. I don't think that I want to know exactly what that 'busniess' is all about, but he is well respected in Vukouvar… so is the whole family. Mine is not, so when I fell in love with his daughter…-"  
"I see," Susan sighed.  
"…- I was a poor 17-year-old from a Zagreb suburb with a train-conducting unknown painter as a father and with gipsy blood in my veins…. Not what you want for your only daughter."  
"Gipsy blood, huh," she smiled and touched his raven-black hair. "Is that from where this comes from?"  
"Nah…" he smiled and shook his head.  
"My great, great grandfather, or something was gipsy, but we all look like this. I'm not even a tenth gipsy, but that can be enough for some people…-"  
"So I've heard," she said, feeling sorry for him even though she knew she'd better not let him see that. But how the hell was she not supposed to pity him? The more he told her about himself, the more he revealed about his life, the more tragic it all seemed to her.  
"I would never have sold my soul to him now as I did then," he suddenly sighed. "But I was so young then… and she was the only thing I could think of, the only thing I wanted… I felt like if I had to prove… improve, myself. I was never good enough."  
He took a deep breath before continuing.  
"My mother wanted us, me and my brothers, to take over the old family farm but neither Dubravko nor I wanted to. My oldest brother took the farm, Dubravko became a cab driver and I…- I went to med school."  
"You became a doctor because your father-in-law wanted you to?" Susan asked in disbelief.  
"No, no… don't get me wrong. I love my job, don't think otherwise. In a way I suppose I have to be thankful to him, if it weren't for him I would never have considered going to university, people in my neighbourhood don't usually do that. But I realized that I loved helping people, and that I was somewhat good at it."  
"You're not 'somewhat good' at being a doctor, Luka," Susan said strictly "you're meant to be here, do you hear me?"  
"I know…" he said with a sigh, "I know…"  
"And I'm sure your father-in-law wouldn't say a word about you now," she added. He smiled.  
"Well, frankly I couldn't care less what he thinks. I don' have to see him again, and neither does he have to see me. There is no reason anymore..." he said in a quieter voice.  
"No reason at all…"  
He looked down on his hands, once again painfully reliving the dreadful events that day so many years ago. The day he had lost everything.  
He couldn't stop blaming his father-in-law for it. If he hadn't talked Danijela into living in Vukouvar, if he hadn't been who he was, if he hadn't…  
But deep inside he knew Danijela's father wasn't to blame. It hadn't been him who had demanded the bombings of Vukouvar, neither had it been him who had left the apartment to get those damn supplies, it hadn't been him who had to finish his internship instead of moving his family to safety. It hadn't been his father-in-law who had done those things; it had been himself. It was he himself who was to blame - no one else. He might not have been responsible for the bombings themselves, but for what had come out of it for him, Danijela, Jasna and Marko.  
He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to get as much rest as he could.  
  
She sat there at the chair, looking closely at him as if she never wanted to forget what he looked like. What if she never saw him again? Just as she had gotten to know him, he'd be out of her life, maybe forever. Why? This wasn't fair.  
She thought of how he, despite the pain she knew every move caused him, had comforted her, had let her cry on his shoulder. In a way she was embarrassed over having broken down like that, it was definitely not like her.  
The past days she had learned to know more about him than the rest of the staff together knew about him. The more she learned about him the better she thought she knew him. But sometimes she wasn't that sure, and sometimes was now. She looked at him, lying there on the bed with closed eyes. He looked so tired, so much older – not at all the Luka she had known for the past hour. He was closing up again, she could see it.  
She reached out with her hand and stroke it gently over his hair.  
"You tired?" she asked softly.  
"Mmm…" he murmured, sounding as if he was half asleep already.  
"Want me to leave…?"  
He shook his head where he laid on his side, his face turned to her.  
"No… Stay, please…"  
"I will," she said softly, still stroking his hair. She saw how he relaxed where he was lying and was glad to see it. Suddenly he blinked and opened his eyes, searching for her gaze.  
"Is it cold in here…?" he asked.  
"Maybe a little…" she said, looking around her for an extra blanket to wrap around him. She rose up and went to the cabinet by the wall. She opened it and pulled out a hospital blanket. With it pressed against her chest she went back to the bed and unfolded the blanket. She wrapped the yellow hospital-smelling blanket around him and he gave her a tired but grateful smile before he fell asleep.  
  
***  
  
The sun was starting to set outside and people passed by in the corridor. About half an hour after that Luka had fallen asleep Kerry came up to the ward. She knocked on the door and stepped inside the room before Susan even had the time to rise up from the chair.  
"Hi…" she said in a low voice, careful not to wake Luka.  
"Hi," Susan replied, trying to remember if she had missed a shift or something. But she was off today, wasn't she? But Kerry **did** have a bad habit of dragging people to work on their days off. Couldn't she see that she was busy right now?  
"I spoke to Luka's brother," Kerry said, still standing right in front of the door.  
"He managed to get the last seats on a plane to Sarajevo this evening"  
"You mean Zagreb, Kerry. Sarajevo is in Bosnia."  
"No," Kerry shook her head. "I know that much. The airline company doesn't fly to Zagreb tonight, so they'll have to take a connection flight from Sarajevo."  
Susan sighed.  
"Great… Kerry, how could you give Dubravko permission to do this? You know that it'll take a small miracle for Luka to get through this trip!"  
"I didn't give him permission, Robert did."  
"Well, how could he do it!?" Susan said angrily.  
"Come outside, otherwise you'll wake Luka," Kerry said and opened the door. Susan got up from the chair and followed her out in the corridor.  
"I don't know why Robert gave Dubravko permission to take Luka out of here," Kerry said quickly before Susan had the time to ask. "I don't like it either, but I do think that it might be healthy for him…"  
"If he survives the trip," Susan snapped with her arms crossed over her chest.  
Kerry took a thorough look at the woman in front of her.  
"Susan…" she began, not really knowing how she was going to lay this out. Did she have to at all? After all, no one else seemed to have noticed anything for real. Sure here had been some gossiping but that hadn't been anything serious, it was just the classical "two-colleagues-spending-a-lot-of-time-together-I'm-sure-they-have-an-affair"-kind of talk. People had gotten tired of it - the talk was stopping for the five-hundred-twenty-seventh episode of the Carter/Abby soap opera or for how well Elizabeth seemed to feel now – but she **knew** something more or less weird was going on up here.  
"What?" Susan said, eager to get back inside in case Luka woke up. Sure he wasn't going to die without her, but she felt bad about having promised to stay and then not being there when he woke up.  
"Susan, people talk."  
"Yeah, we tend to do that," she said in her annoyed voice. Why did Kerry have to come with this world changing news right now?  
"… life would be pretty boring otherwise…" she added but Kerry interrupted her.  
"About you…"  
Susan frowned.  
"Me?"  
"About you _and_ Dr. Kovac," Kerry sighed.  
  
For the second time in two days Susan felt as if someone had poured a glass of cold water over her. First Carter, now Kerry and apparently the rest of the staff too. What the hell, was that the only thing they had on their minds?! And why did Kerry always start to 'Dr.' people when she wanted to say something important?  
"What the hell are you saying?" she almost screamed.  
"You know how they are… you spend a bit too much time with someone and, boom, you're engaged…" Kerry smiled, trying to ease up Susan's attitude.  
"Are they insinuating that Luka and I are having some sort of…-" Susan felt her cheeks burning again, remembering how she had been lying in his arms earlier and how he had been caressing her cheeks.  
"They don't mean any harm…"  
"But he's ill, for God's sake! What do they think of me?!"  
"'I'm sure it's completely harmless," Kerry assured her "…they're just worried about Luka and…-"  
"And this is how they show it? Seriously, Kerry, what kind of way of showing that is this?"  
"Look, Susan…" Kerry tried.  
"Look, Kerry" Susan replied "…- I don't even wanna hear."  
She turned around and marched back inside the room.  
  
***  
  
For the first time in almost a week he rose up. The room was spinning a little and he had to lean on Susan for a while before he could stand up straight. He saw her worried eyes as he let go of her and tried to take a step forward. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous, but he decided not to let it stop him.  
One more step, right foot first, left one then. As soon as he moved the left leg the God damn familiar pain rose and made it impossible to walk. Both Susan and Dubravko saw this, exchanging worried looks.  
"Luka, please let me get you a wheel chair," Susan pleaded.  
"No!" he snapped and made a new attempt to walk, only resulting in him almost falling. Dubravko caught him in time, saving him from tumbling over.  
"Listen to her, Luka," he said in Croatian, in a, for him, unusually calm voice.  
"You can't walk."  
"I'm not going down there in a freaking wheel chair!" Luka replied angrily.  
"But…-"  
"I'm not!"  
"OK," Dubravko sighed. "Fine, do fall then."  
  
He let Susan hold her hand over his back and not wanting to collapse in front of her he managed to walk to the elevator and lean against the wall almost without any problems. But when they got inside the lift his powers were out. God, he was never going to be able to do this. Why had he wanted to go this way?  
He looked at the indicator above the elevator doors. They left the psych ward, fast moving down. The paediatrics ward, cardiology, OB. God, how come had he never realized how big this hospital was? The indicator kept moving. The OR, the ICU. He felt sick as the elevator slowed down. He couldn't do this.  
The elevator stopped in the ER.  
As the doors were opened and the familiar sounds and smells of County reached him he felt as if somebody had punched him. He had practically been living at hospitals all his grown-up life – what if he never could be a doctor again? What if he never became normal again? Until a few days ago he couldn't have cared less about whether he became well again or not, but now… Something had happened deep inside of him the past days. He didn't know what, but something it was.  
  
It wasn't a very busy day in the ER, and most of the staff was sitting, standing or leaning at the admit desk, not seeming very interested in whether it snowed or not, or in whether the elevator doors were closed or opened. But somehow all their attention seemed to be concentrated at the doors he, with Susan's arm still behind his back and Dubravko right next to him, just was exiting.  
Carter, Abby, Chen, Pratt, Gallant, most of the nurses. They were all standing there, looking at them, Gallant and Pratt taking a pause in their betting over who was going to win tonight's game.  
Kerry came out of the Lounge, carrying a box. He recognized his spare coat that was thrown over it, and suddenly he understood what there was in that box.  
God, he was really leaving County. All the times he had thought of it, all the days and nights he hadn't wished for anything but to get away from this place. Now he was, and it felt weird. Weird, weird and absolutely horrible.  
"The stuff from your locker," Kerry said, handing him the box, but he had no free hands and feared that even if he had had, he might have dropped it.  
"Dubravko…" he said, tiredly nodding at the box "…- would you…-"  
"Sure," Dubravko said and took the box from Kerry.  
Susan looked at Luka as Dubravko took the box with the stuff.  
"You OK?" she asked quietly, holding her arm tightly behind his back. They both realized that everybody at the admit desk were staring at them, they too had realized that Kerry had emptied Luka's locker – what her doing that meant they all knew. Someone was leaving. They hadn't been any more aware of this departure than she had been, and they were just as shocked as she was.  
"I'm fine…" he said tiredly.  
"Let's get out of here," she said, seeing that he felt worse than he admitted. She felt bad too. Felt bad wasn't the word, actually – she felt as if something icy had captured her in its grip, not letting go no matter how hard she fought it. Why was she feeling like this now, she if someone shouldn't. She had known for several hours already that he was leaving, leaving maybe never to come back.  
But it felt so weird to see this happen, that it happened at all and that it happened like this. She had seen many colleagues leaving over the years, sometimes it was hard, sometimes it was close to unbearable as it had been with Mark, sometimes you were relieved to be rid of them, as she had been when a certain Dr. Smith left the hospital in Arizona. Now when it was Luka's turn to leave she shouldn't feel like this – she had never known him that well. But now she felt like she did know him, and him leaving felt so wrong that she wanted to jump up and down and scream. She could see in the other's faces that they felt weird too. You never imagined that someone you had worked with for a while would leave, no matter how well or how little you knew him or her. The minute a new doctor stepped through those swinging doors you started to wonder what his or her presence would give, or, in some cases cause, County. With whom would they get involved, who would they be friends with, who would they not stand? With Luka and his history she supposed that the gossiping must have gone wild at his arrival. Had people thought that he would be able to beat Doug in the competition over Carol's heart, or had they heard wedding bells between him and Abby? They had certainly not imagined this, that she was sure of. Not that he'd be leaving County in this state, depressed, suicidal, almost unable to walk without her and Dubravko's support.  
She could feel that he breathed in heavily to be able to answer.  
"No, wait…-" he said, trying to raise his voice but finding it difficult.  
"I have to talk to him first…-"  
"To whom? Luka, you should really save your energy…" she said, stopping him from walking up to the desk by putting her hands gently on his chest. She looked him straight in the eye, afraid that he might be loosing touch with the real world again. But he looked surprisingly sane.  
"I can sleep on the plane," he said tiredly.  
OK, so that was a lie, he couldn't sleep on planes, but that was another story.  
He closed his eyes for a while to find the strenght. He still couldn't believe he was doing this, but he had to. He took a deep breath before facing the rest of the staff.  
"Carter…" he said, feeling the looks the others gave him.  
"Yes?"  
Carter was standing next to Abby at the admit desk, feeling his heart somewhere in his throat. Was this the beginning of another scene, or was it something else?  
"I…- I'm sorry…" Luka said slowly, putting weight on every word to make himself heard.  
"I'm sorry. About yesterday… I was wrong, I know. And I'm sorry…"  
Carter swallowed, looked down at the desk for a moment, then back at Luka again.  
"Hey, I think there were two of us," he said with a wide, Carter-like smile.  
Luka nodded.  
"Thank you."  
"Just get well now, will you?"  
"We'll see…"  
"We won't see anything," Susan said firmly, still standing in front of him with her hand on his chest.  
"You're going to get well," she said.  
She doubted that anybody else than Luka and maybe Dubravko could hear her, but the others didn't need to.  
He looked at the admit desk again, and all the others looked back. Kerry had gone to stand with them, and they all looked at him, Susan and Dubravko standing in front of the doors. Susan was standing in front of him, looking straight at him.  
"You will be fine," she said, pressing her hand against his chest, as if to make him understand what she said. He looked at her, almost getting lost in her eyes. He didn't want to leave. Did not want to. Without thinking he slowly raised his hand and touched her face. He felt a great need to do something, tell her something…  
"Luka… the taxi is here," he suddenly heard Dubravko's voice close to him. His brother was for once not screaming, shouting, laughing or singing or doing anything else that maybe made him a good cab driver, but also made him difficult to have a normal conversation with.  
"We have to go now," he added, nodding towards the door.  
"Come," Susan said, gently putting her hand on his arm.  
  
He nodded at her, giving the staff behind the desk one last look. Carter, Kerry and Jing-Mei nodded at him, Gallant and Pratt looked uncomfortable, Haleh smiled. His eyes moved to Abby. He was a bit nervous to meet her gaze, and at first he saw nothing in her face. But then she suddenly raised her hand and smiled a little. She raised her hand and waved at him, in a way looking like a little girl and looking more like Abby than he had seen her in a long time.  
  
Susan sighed when Dubravko said whatever he said to Luka and thereby broke the connection between her and Luka. She had understood that even if Dubravko's English wasn't bad at all he didn't feel comfortable speaking the language more than necessary, and always spoke Croatian if it was possible. Usually she enjoyed listening to him and Luka, she understood absolutely nothing but it still was fun to listen. But right now she would have given a lot to keep him quiet.  
She had felt something so strong just seconds earlier when she had been standing there, her hands at Luka's chest and her eyes captured in his.  
It had felt as if he wanted to tell her something but couldn't find the words. She had realized that everybody had been staring at them, and when he touched her face everybody had started whispering. She was sure this would start the gossiping again, but she didn't care. She wanted to hear what he had on his mind, but now, thanks to that damn cab, she wouldn't be able to.  
Dubravko held up the door and they slowly exited the hospital. It was dark outside, almost 9 pm, and among all the other cars out in the ambulance bay there was the black taxi, its lights flashing at the brick walls. Dubravko went to the other side of the cab and made himself ready to jump inside when he suddenly turned to Susan.  
"Thank you…. Susan," he said, not knowing whether to "Dr" her or not.  
She was glad he didn't.  
"Don't mention it," she smiled.  
He smiled back and disappeared from her sight.  
"Well," she then said to Luka. "I guess this is goodbye then," she continued, fighting to keep her voice normal.  
"Yes," he said, looking her straight in the eye again.  
They were standing next to the car, not being able to fully say goodbye. He was once again drowning in her eyes, feeling how he lost his touch with the real world again. But this time it wasn't in a mental, delusional, way – it was in another, much more pleasant, way. He didn't hear the sirens of the ambulance pulling up behind them, didn't see how Carter and Kerry came rushing out to meet it.  
  
She felt his eyes deep inside of her and it made her feel short of breath. It felt as if her mind clicked somehow and her thoughts slowed down. She knew she was freezing, but she didn't feel it.  
Not even realizing that she did it and this time without breaking the gaze, she put her hands at his chest again. The fabric in his black coat was soft under her bare hands and she moved her left hand up to his neck to straighten out the scarf Dubravko basically had thrown over Luka only seconds before they left the psych room. She realized that the scarf had been in even more need of straightening out than she first had thought. To get it straight she had to wrap both her arms around his neck, and since he was so much taller than she was she had to stand on the toes to reach up. Since her balance wasn't what it was supposed to be it didn't take many seconds before she fell against him. They both laughed and he put his arm gently over her back. She let her arms stay wrapped around his neck and felt his breath on her skin. She was surprised to realize that he was leaning in. She was even more surprised to realize that she did the same.  
  
He leaned in, closing his eyes, not knowing if he was insane or saner than he had been for a pretty long time.  
He leaned in and gently kissed her cheek.  
  
It didn't take long but it felt like a small eternity. When he straightened his back he looked at her again, and found that her eyes were wet even though she tried to hide it.  
"Hey… no crying here, Susie…-" he said with a weak smile, trying not to let his emotions shine through himself.  
She smiled widely when she heard him call her that old nickname. It was such a long time ago since somebody had called her that.  
"What was that?" she asked, still smiling.  
"May I call you that?" he asked, hoping she didn't mind. It fitted her somehow, described her personality.  
"Sure," she said, and got an idea seconds later.  
"…- on one condition," she added with a mysterious smile.  
"That you'll come back. You can call me Susie if you promise to come back."  
He smiled.  
"I promise."  
"Good."  
She felt another wave of tears coming, an even stronger one this time. She tried to stop it by making this as quick as possible.  
"Let's get you in that bloody car or this will turn out to be 'the County cry-party'," she joked.  
  
He sat down in the car and leaned his head against the back of the seat.  
"That took some bloody time," Dubravko muttered and nodded against Susan who hadn't closed the cab door yet. She didn't understand what he said but understood that he was annoyed somehow, and since he was nodding towards her she guessed that it was with her or the long goodbye he was annoyed.  
"You OK?" she asked Luka quickly.  
He nodded.  
"Yeah…"  
She pulled her hair behind her ear but the December wind was playing with it as if her protests didn't matter at all.  
"Well, bye…" she said, insecure. He nodded again.  
"Bye…"  
She took a deep breath.  
"Luka, I…-"  
Dubravko interrupted her by leaning over Luka and taking a grip of the door.  
"_Dr. Lewis_, with all your respect but we are going to miss the plane if…-"  
"I understand," she said, smiling and damning herself for smiling like she always did when she didn't feel like doing it.  
The car door slammed shut and the driver, who apparently was happy to get moving, started the engine. Susan took a few steps backwards, crossing her arms over her chest. Now the cold was getting to her, icy and sharp as a knife, cutting right through her.  
  
As the taxi drove off in the direction of O'Hare she realized that it had started snowing again.  
  
**Author's pleading:** _I have a new story in progress, a songfic. I have found this perfect song and think the story might turn out v. good – only problem is that the song is in Swedish. I don't intend to put it up in my language since I wouldn't like reading songfics with songs I didn't understand, but I'm having trouble translating it (the lyrics). So if anyone thinks they're good at translating from Swedish to English would you PLEASE, PLEASE contact me?  
Just for the records: the song is "Det vackraste jag vet" by Cecilia Wennersten. Love it._


	7. Homecoming part one

**Author's comments: **Hey, look at this! It only took a few days! And it's ten pages shorter than usual, but that's a whole other story… Well, maybe it could be a nice change.  
  
Thanks so much for the reviews! I realize now that the end of the last chapter might have seemed like it was the end of the whole story, but, to quote Churchill – _this is not the end , it's not the beginning– but it's the end of the beginning…_ I'm afraid this story will be very, very long… =)   
  
_A-K: En osaa sanoa miten paljon kommentoisi merkitsi minulle! Todella hauska nähdä että täällä on suomalalaisiakin! Olen kyllä ruotsinkielinen, en vaan ole maaliman paras kääntäjä… =) Kirjoitatko itse, olisi kiva lukea? En puhuu niin hyvä suomea, mutta osan kyllä lukea (näet varmasti etten kirjoittaa niin paljon suomeksi, mutta yritetään nyt…)  
Kiitos taas!_

**CHAPTER SIX :** **HOMECOMING [part one]**  
**  
Early morning 7th December, Sarajevo /Bosnia and Herzegovina**  
  
Hopefully people at Sarajevo's international airport were used to see zombies walking around in the baggage claim hall.  
Judging from the looks they gave him, they weren't.  
  
Looks? Stares, more likely. He heard whispers around him as he leaned against the wall, damning the teenagers that were occupying the chairs.  
He met Dubravko's eyes and sighed. His brother was standing across the hall next to the carousel with the bags on it, waiting for their baggage and checking up on him every second minute. It was terribly annoying to feel his eyes on one's back all the time, guarding every step. The most annoying thing was that Dubravko's concerns weren't just the big-brother-syndrome, but that he needed them to stay on his feet. He was so sick of having to be this dependent on others and especially on Dubravko. All his grown up life, first as a husband and father and then as an attending at various hospitals he had gotten used to if not being in charge, then at least being listened to and respected. Sure he wouldn't miss 20-year-olds always addressing him "Dr" and making him feel twenty years older, but he wouldn't be able to stand being the youngest one, the baby of the family, all over again.  
  
One of the teenage girls rose up and he sat down quickly so that no one would steal the seat from him. But he sat down too fast and the hall started to spin around a thousand times faster than the baggage moved on the carousel. He groaned quietly and closed his eyes. He felt like crap. Or, actually, he felt like he had done most of the past weeks, so it was starting to feel like his normal condition.  
When he opened his eyes he saw Dubravko coming up to him, carrying a bag Luka recognized as his own.  
"Come," he said, stopping in front of the chair with the bag thrown over his shoulder.  
"Why?" Luka sighed. He had just managed to get a seat after limping around in the hall for the past fifteen minutes, why did Dubravko have to drag him away from here now?  
"We're in the wrong part of the place," Dubravko said patiently, his lack of temper during the whole trip surprising Luka. It was clear that being a father had extended Dubravko's sometimes so bad patience.  
"Wrong part of the place?" Luka asked.  
"We are in arrivals, supposed to be in departures."  
"No…" Luka groaned. From what he remembered of Sarajevo's airport it was a paradise of corridors, as most airports were.  
One had to walk in corridors. He couldn't walk.  
"Yes," Dubravko replied.  
Another of the teenagers rose up and Dubravko sat down at the free seat.  
"You OK?" he asked.  
"No," Luka said, tired of lying. "No, I'm not."  
"I shouldn't have dragged you here, should I?" Dubravko asked with brotherly concern in his voice.  
"No, you shouldn't have," Luka sighed.  
"I just…- Well, I guess I didn't realize just how bad you were feeling."  
"I tried to tell you."  
"I know," Dubravko sighed and looked down at his hands in a way Luka knew he did himself too when he felt guilty for something.  
"I know."  
**  
10 a.m. 6th December, Chicago  
  
**"I want all of you here _now_, before Dr. Kovac's replacement comes in!"  
Kerry's voice filled the ER and Susan sighed.  
"Could you be a little more obvious about it?" she muttered where she was standing at the admit desk, leaning on her elbow, cupping her chin in her left hand and holding a pen with which she was playing in the right.  
"She's not doing it to tangle you off, hon," Haleh said gently.  
Susan turned around, almost gasping.  
"Are you defending Weaver?"  
"Kinda surprised myself," Haleh smiled.  
Susan shook her head and turned her eyes back at the pen in her hands.  
"It's just so…-" she began, happy that Haleh was there to listen. But that happiness didn't last long as Kerry who once again was screaming interrupted her.  
"OK people, let's make this quick."  
She lowered her voice a bit and met up with most of the staff that had gathered inside the ellipse the admit desk made.  
"You all know what has happened," she then said in her typical management-voice. "Some of you…-" she looked directly at Susan, Carter and Abby "…- know the details behind, others of you don't. I ask you not to make this the new gossip or a big deal – if anyone asks where Luka is you just say he is going to be away for a while…-"  
"But he will come back, won't he?"  
Gallant asked the question that everybody had on their minds.  
"I don't know," Kerry answered in a much softer voice after thinking for a while.  
"I really don't know, and I doubt that even Luka himself knows. We'll just have to wait and see – both Robert and I will be in touch with his family for the following months, then we'll see."  
"What about his patients?" Pratt asked from where he was standing next to Jing-Mei.  
"Dr. Smith will take them, as will he take over Luka's other duties here…-"  
  
Susan's heart jumped when she heard Kerry say the name of Luka's replacement. She tried to calm herself down, but it was difficult.  
There had to be at least a thousand Dr.Smith's in America – it just couldn't be him. If it was… dear God. It couldn't be.  
  
"Dr. Smith is coming here from a New York City hospital. He is originally from Arizona and…- well, here he comes. I'm sure he can tell us himself."  
  
A blonde man of medium length entered the hospital with steps that said that he was very secure on himself. Kerry turned around and smiled at him.  
"Welcome to Cook County General, Dr. Smith," she said. "I was just about to tell the others about you, but now you can do it yourself," she added with a sunny smile.  
"Will do. I just have to say hello to an old friend."  
"You know someone here?" Kerry asked surprised.  
"Sure do," he answered in his heavy Arizona accent.  
He turned around a little with a grin on his face.  
  
"Hello, Susie."  
Susan thought she would faint.  
  
**Middle of the day 7th December, Sarajevo/Bosnia and Herzegovina  
  
**Dubravko came walking with a face like thunder. He handed the cell phone back to Luka and muttered a few curses while looking for his cigarettes. When he found them he pulled out one and lit it while shaking his head.  
"That woman… she drives me crazy," he muttered.  
"She is your wife," Luka said with closed eyes and his head leaned back against the chair in the departure lounge, frowning when he smelled the smoke from Dubravko's cigarette. He opened his eyes and saw the 'smoking permitted' sign on the wall.  
The lounge was filled with people; businessmen in suits, families with children and grandparents, lonely people holding up books and papers in front of their faces.  
He and Dubravko had been sitting there for a while already. Or, he had been sitting there half asleep and Dubravko had called home to say they were on their way – a call that ended up in the argument with Natalia that he was ranting on about now.  
"I know," he muttered as a reply to Luka mentioning the fact that Natalia was his wife.  
"Sometimes I wonder why."  
He blew out some smoke, not realizing that the nicotine cloud was blowing right on Luka who, out of habit, raised a hand and tried to clear the air around him by waving in front of him. He realized the pathetic in his attempt when he saw the percentage of smokers in the room. Home, sweet home…  
"You're still doing that?" he asked Dubravko in an annoyed voice.  
"Mmm…" his brother responded with a dreamy look on his face.  
"You shouldn't," Luka said tiredly, knowing this was the most unnecessary discussion they had had yet.  
"Don't give me that doctor crap," Dubravko muttered.  
"I'm not," Luka replied, "I just thought you stopped when I did."  
"Tried to, couldn't. I need it to stand Talia's temper."  
"It's insane that you're smoking to stand your wife."  
"I'm not smoking to stand Talia, I am smoking to stand her temper."  
"That's the same thing, isn't it," Luka muttered.  
"It's not – besides, when I tried to stop I got the worst abstinence… I never understood how you managed to escape it…-" he interrupted himself when he heard himself.  
"Sorry."  
Luka sighed.  
"Doesn't matter," he muttered, his nerves shot to ribbons.  
  
This trip was killing him big time. If they had been travelling straight it would have been one thing, but having to fly from Chicago to Sarajevo, waiting at the Sarajevo airport for five hours before getting on a plane to Zagreb and then finally having to sit in a car for about an hour before they reached the small, poor village they had had the questionable luck of being born in – that was too much. He had been arguing with the security and customs at both O'Hare and at the arrival here, having forgotten that the metal detectors at airports were on another level than the ones at County. He couldn't even go close to them without them screaming loudly. It was the metal piece in the leg of course, and stupid as he was he had no papers proving that it was an injury from the war and not something he would use to blow up the whole plane he had on him, or in him, more likely. Usually his title and black suits made people assume he wasn't a terrorist or endangered America's safety, but the way he was now gave people a whole other picture. His inability to walk normally, how he obviously weighed too little for his height and how the reasons for that obviously were too much alcohol and too little of everything else, how his face was lined and tired – everything made him seem more like something, not even someone, that should be kept far away from other people. Add to this an Eastern-European passport and the fact that he suddenly had gotten trouble finding English words – if not one of the security guards at O'Hare had spoken Italian and had been able to convince his boss that neither Luka nor Dubravko were any danger to the other passengers, he might as well have been there still. In Sarajevo the controllers had been if possible even more hysteric, but at least he didn't need a translator to explain what the problem was. 

Now his powers were out and they had almost half of the trip left. One more flight, one more uneatable airplane meal, one more uncomfortable flight seat, one more landing hat made him nauseous, one more security check. Then the car trip home…  
Home?  
  
Was the little, poor but so beautiful village outside Zagreb 'home'? Genetically, yes. Was it Chicago? No way. He liked the city itself and there was nothing wrong with America either, but it was just something that didn't work, somehow he didn't fit in.  
Could Rome, the eternal city, be home? He could walk around there; his colours and the lack of accent in his Italian making him melt in. He could change his last name and start spelling his first name with 'c' instead of 'k' – no body would know he wasn't Roman.  
Why had he ever left Rome? Why on earth had he left the city that had everything – food, culture, and a language he was familiar with. It had been close to home too, if he against all odds wanted to go back.  
That day about three years ago when he had left Italy for America, not really knowing where he was going... His knowledge of America hadn't been good, neither had his English. It made no sense, him leaving Italy where he somehow fitted in for Chicago and a hospital with an arrogant boss and messy relationships.  
Maybe he could go back. The hospital in Rome had been nice – no Romano, no Weaver, no blizzards that screwed up the whole city and no smallpox viruses. Wonder if Lola still was there? The small nurse with the strong will had been the only one he had known in Rome. She was married and had no less than seven children, but that had never kept her from trying to get him to talk to her. Not that he had ever told her anything, though. He hadn't wanted her pity, hadn't wanted anyone to know. In case people knew it always went like it finally had in Rome – his boss had somehow learned about what had happened and started to act disturbingly nice around him; always tried to keep him from working with kids, always gave him looks of deep sympathy, forcing him to go home if he showed the slightest sign of depression. Maybe he should have been thankful, but it only annoyed him. So when he went west it had been with the hope of not having such a bleeding-hearted boss again.  
Well, Weaver had surely never shown any such sides.  
  
Dubravko had gotten started on the second cigarette in twenty minutes and the smoke from it was surrounding him again. To his surprise he didn't get more headache of it as he usually did from cigarette smoke. That the headache would have disappeared by the smell of nicotine was giving Philip Morris and their competitors of smoker's money too much credit, but at least it didn't get worse. It was very surprising, actually. He hadn't smoked a cigarette since he gave it up at the age of 21 or so and had always been annoyed with others smoking, especially people in the health trade, but suddenly all his principles were as thrown out of the window.  
Hell, he had more bad habits then he could count by now, what difference would one more make?  
He turned to Dubravko.  
"Give me one of those, will you?"


	8. Homecoming part two

**Author's comment: **Just one thing to say, really: FINALLY!! Jesus Christ, I have spent both blood, sweat and tears on this chapter, but I also think it's one of the better I've ever written, at least if one looks at the writing, the content is another thing =)  
And, since this is up now I have worked through my problems with ff.net… when I'm writing this I haven't… :(  
  
Before I let you read I'd like to give my beta reader Trisse some, no, a lot, of credit – it's thanks to her that I added the last part, for example. Thanks to her very through-thought or whatever-to-call-it-in-English-comments I got the chapter better! Even though I was deadly nervous, as some people at FF might have seen ;)  
Well, thanks again, both to Trisse and the reviewers and please keep reading and reviewing!! **  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN : HOMECOMING [part two]  
  
9 p.m. 7th December, Zagreb/Croatia  
  
**The plane landed softly at the landing pad outside the international airport. Dubravko turned away his attention from the pretty stewardess.  
"Welcome home," he said with a wide smile.  
Luka was dragged away from the half-asleep state he had been in the whole flight thanks to the pills he somehow had managed to convince Dubravko to give him. This flight had also been a more pleasant one – the plane hadn't been as full as the one from Chicago had been and therefore the air inside the cabin had been better and he had had more room for his legs.  
"What…?" he asked as he struggled to wake up completely.  
"We landed," Dubravko said, slightly laughing at how Luka didn't seem to be awake at all.  
"What were you dreaming about?" he added teasingly.  
"A life without Valium and vodka," Luka muttered sarcastically, not planning to tell Dubravko that he had been _thinking_ – not dreaming – just thinking back at his and Susan's moment outside County. Susie… He could hear her laughter inside his head if he wanted to.  
Dubravko sighed.  
"Are you always that ironic nowadays? What happened to my laughing brother?"  
"He died," Luka said coldly as the people at the first seats started to leave the plane.  
"He died."  
  
**10.01 a.m. - County, Chicago  
  
**Susan gasped and stared at the man in front of her. Everybody else looked too, but they were surprised and smiling, not shocked and almost nauseous as she was.  
"Aren't you going to say hello to me, Susie?"  
Ritchie's voice filled her head, his voice just as arrogant and self absorbed as always. The sound of him talking to her, that wide grin… - everything made her remember.  
  
_The sound of the storage closet door slamming shut, his hands suddenly everywhere.  
"What the hell are you doing?!"  
He whispered her name huskily, taking a tighter grip of her, her suddenly realizing what he was doing. Him trying to kiss her as she pushed him away, screaming on top of her lungs. The door to the closet being opened, her feeling relieved through the panic. Somebody was coming - he couldn't hurt her.  
The Chief of ER opening the door, stepping inside. She thought he'd start yelling at Ritchie or fire him right that instant, but that didn't happen.  
Her boss gave her, her panic stricken expression and messy clothes a cold look and turned to Ritchie.  
"Do you have the labs on Mr. Perez in exam 4, Dr. Smith?"  
  
_She remembered how shocked she had been. Didn't he understand…? Was he blind?  
Didn't he care?  
Apparently not.  
  
_Ritchie gave her an evil smile and left two steps behind their boss, leaving her alone in the storage closet with a shocked expression on her face. She had a feeling of nothing being real – first she was attacked in a storage closet by a colleague, then looked down on as slut by her boss.  
  
_"Stay away from me, Ritchie," she hissed between her teeth, making all the others frown or jump. It wasn't like her, she heard someone whisper behind her.  
"Susie…" he tried, still with that obnoxious smile. 

He took a few steps up to the desk and towards her, reaching out with his hand to touch her.  
"Let me be!" she yelled, slapping his fingers before they got anywhere near her.  
"I thought I told you to go to hell three years ago!" she added.  
"I came here, didn't I," he said with a laugh, a laugh that made her feel even more disgusted. She knew the others behind her would have laughed at his describtion of the hospital as the place for people closed out from heaven, a describtion they often used themselves – they would have agreed with him if it hadn't been for her reaction. They were standing there, practically staring at her, following every move she made in order to try to see a pattern or read some sense into her actions. 

"Come on Susan," he said, now in a slightly sharper voice, though still making sure that he didn't loose his face in front of the rest. She shook her head heavily, took a few steps away from admit desk and straight up to him. The blood was pumping inside of her, the shock and terrible memories faded away, only leaving fury left. She stopped right in front of him and looked him right in the eye.  
"No, no, no! I'm not your Susie, I'm not going to 'come on' and I'm never going to let you come near me, even less _touch_ me, again!"  
  
With that she fled. She was planning to walk away without looking back, being strong and confident.  
She didn't look back, but by the time she passed him by she realized she was running.  
  
**10.05 p.m. outside Zagreb  
  
**Suddenly, as out of nowhere, the village appeared in front of him. He had forgotten how the road made that sudden but sharp turn, away from the green fields and up the hill.  
How could he have forgotten that, especially considering how he had been close to crash into a tree by the field one of the first times he drove a car?  
Well, maybe Dubravko's roaring laughter at the sight had been why he had managed to forget it.  
  
The old houses, all in different sizes but in the same white brick, were showing up one after one. Those houses with the red roofs always made all the tourists he remembered from his childhood think of the Mediterranean. There had been nothing that would have made them think that the idyllic village an hours drive from the capital a decade later would suffer as it would.  
So many people had lost their lives, even more people had lost dear ones. His history was in no way unique here. The cemetery on the other side of the hill was swamped. Only the thought of it and what was there under the flowers and crosses made him feel short of breath, almost nauseous.  
  
Dubravko slowed down the car as they drove through the heart of the village where the small church and the open square were. Children playing, old men playing chess at small tables in the not at all winter-like weather, their wives chatting, and, even though they'd never admit it, gossiping about the ones that weren't there.  
He knew them all, recognized them through the car window Dubravko really should clean. Some were friends of his mother who knew everybody; others had worked with his father or even grandfather before retiring. Some of them had spent weeks and months at the hospital in Zagreb because of war injuries, others were just and had always been too lazy to work, not letting their wives' or mothers' nagging get to them.  
The further up the sandy road Dubravko drove, the more familiar faces Luka saw. Childhood friends mostly, some related to him in one way or another, some not.  
Some of them saw him through the window despite Dubravko's bad cleaning routines. He saw his childhood best friend Viktor looking right at him, his thoughts easy to read as always.  
He was wondering how things could have gone this far, this wrong and how they had gotten this dark.  
  
Finally Dubravko made the last turn and the familiar mailbox with the big, red letters spelling out KOVAC on appeared, put up at the white wooden fence. Only seconds later the house was right there in front of them.  
Dubravko stopped the car in the middle of the yard. The house looked as it always had – or, actually – the houses. First there was the farmhouse with his brother's old car outside, and then there was the smaller main house with the big veranda.  
That veranda had always seemed insanely built in his eyes – somehow it jumped right at you. In the summer it worked like a second livingroom, furnished with a big table and enough chairs for the whole village, chairs and table coming into use on his mother's birthday. They had many weird looking chairs in this house – before his father had started painting and conducting trains he had been some kind of carpenter with chairs as his speciality.  
  
The front door was opened and out on the porch rushed his mother, yelling something back inside the house. A few seconds later Natalia followed her out, shutting the door behind them and throwing a blanket over her mother-in-law's shoulders. He could hear his mother talking loudly, maybe it was because she didn't hear all that well anymore or then she just liked the sound of her own voice. Natalia, who usually minded nothing and no one and wasn't all that quiet herself either hushed her and helped Milena down the stairs, waving at them.  
Natalia looked the same of course. A few lines on her forehead were the only signs of the ten years that had passed since their last meeting, the lines probably caused by chasing three daughters under five around the house all day.  
Dubravko stepped out of the car, opening up his arms to Natalia who came running, being something as unusual as almost as tall as Dubravko. Luka groaned at the sight of them kissing a few hours after arguing over the phone in a way that would have made most couples throw in the towel. Susan was right; Dubravko and Natalia did have a Hollywood-worthy marriage.  
  
His mother knocked gently on the car window and without thinking he met her gaze. He couldn't help all the emotions storming up inside of him.  
No matter how hopeless she was - how loudly she spoke, how she never stopped treating him like a child just because he happened to be 26 months younger than Dubravko, how she refused to answer the simplest question unless it didn't concern exactly what she was thinking about that instant – regardless of everything she was his mother and he hadn't seen her in ten years. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to keep all the emotions in control, and maybe he would have succeeded if she hadn't opened the door he apparently hadn't locked from the inside as he used to.  
"Aren't you going to come out?" she asked gently.  
"Can you get up?" Dubravko asked. When he didn't get any reply whatsoever he left Natalia on the other side of the car and walked up to Luka. He reached out with his hand.  
"Come," he said.  
  
With help from both Dubravko and Natalia he managed to get out of the car. To get his balance right he put a hand on the car roof for a minute, gathering the few pieces left of him together. His mother looked at him, he could see how the tears welled up in her eyes.  
"Mama…" he said, taking her hand and forcing himself to smile. "Don't…-"  
He didn't even have the time to finish "cry" before she threw her arms around his neck and started crying loudly.  
"I thought I'd never get to see you in one piece again," she cried, almost strangling him and kissing his cheeks. Dubravko saw this and came up to them, gently removing their mother's arms from Luka's neck.  
"Try to keep him in one piece too," he said with laughter in his voice.  
"Don't tell me what to do Dubravko! I am your mother and you don't...-" she yelled, still crying. Two seconds later she threw her arms around Dubravko instead.  
"I'm sorry …" she cried, "I just…-"  
  
She kept rambling on and on about different things for several minutes – how she had been so sure that she'd never see Luka again, how she had been so worried when he left for America and how she had told him to stay but he wouldn't listen to her and…-  
Luka exchanged a tired smile with Natalia who rolled her eyes behind Milena's back. She seemed, as usual, to be the only one totally unaffected by all the emotions surrounding her. She just stood there, slightly behind her husband and mother-in-law, her arms crossed over her chest and wearing the long and curly hair in a bun and the same looking cardigan and long skirt as he remembered her with. Another memory flashed up inside, a memory of how people had made fun of how similar the Kovac girls were. With that people of course meant the similarities between Natalia and Danijela.  
  
He had never thought they were that similar, though. If Danijela never yelled, only looked at him with the disappointment in her eyes when they disagreed on something, then Natalia and Dubravko fought like cats and dogs, just as they still did. If Danijela was quiet around other people than the family, then Natalia with her acting ambitions never shut up for more than a few seconds. If Danijela's hair always was let out and free for him to play with, then Natalia only let her big and frizzy hair when she was dancing or sleeping. They were like night and day, but were still best friends.  
Were?  
God, he was doing it again. Once again he was thinking about Danijela in the present tense. He hadn't done it for a while, but coming back here, seeing all these familiar faces… He had seen his great uncle, his childhood friends and some cousins while driving through the village – that Danijela and the kids weren't here felt more unreal than usual. By living in Rome and Chicago he slowly had gotten used to not hearing the sound of Jasna coming running up to him as soon as he came through the door, to not smell Danijela's gastronomic specialties from the kitchen and to not have any more cosy family nights in front of the fireplace. He missed it so much… It was almost impossible to describe the feelings thinking of his family brought up. A feeling of sharp, killing pain, a pain stronger and more intense than anything he had ever treated patients for. It was killing him. Slowly but surely. He could feel it. It didn't show, but it was as if it took parts of him every day, slowly creeping in and through him. Through the hard facade he had put up, through his inner walls, through his cold appearance, right through everything. He missed everything of his old life. He missed the village, he missed his family, and he missed being able to speak his own language. He missed the hospital in Zagreb, he missed his brothers, and he even missed Natalia with whom he never got along with. For the second time in one day he wondered if he could turn back. Could he come back, start all over again? Could he move home to the village or get a place somewhere in Zagreb, could he finally have the job at the hospital he had been meant to have ever since he graduated – could everything get back to as it once had been supposed to be? Right now there was nothing else he wanted to do than to stay here. He didn't know if these sudden attitude changes towards everything were because of the abstinence or if he just was an emotional wreck right now, but it was how he felt. Being here – the familiar smells, the people… This was his home, where he was from and where he was supposed to be.  
Right?  
  
**10.10 a.m. County, Chicago  
  
**"Susan…? Susan!"  
Jing-Mei's voice filled the ladies room.  
"She's not here," Abby's voice replied.  
"She came in here."  
"Maybe she went around the corner."  
"To where?"  
"Don't know. The roof, outside… home, maybe. She looked pretty freaked out."  
"I know… Poor thing. I wonder what he's done?"  
"What did it sound like to you?"  
"You think he…- Maybe it was just a bad break up or something."  
"He didn't exactly look like her type, did he?"  
"No… you're right… But I can't believe she wouldn't have told anyone…"  
"Would you have?"  
"Do you think we should go up to the roof…?"  
"Carter went up."  
"And Pratt and Gallant are in the ambulance bay."  
"Are you sure she went in here?"  
  
She took a deep breath, touched by how much people cared.  
"He didn't rape me, if that's what you think."  
  
Running footsteps, the door to the last stall being opened, both Abby and Jing-Mei hugging her at the same time, almost making them bump their heads into each other.  
"I thought you were here," Jing-Mei then said, stroking her hair where she sat next to her on the floor.  
"What happened?" Abby asked, kneeling down in front of her.  
"I hate him!" Susan yelled, realizing that she still was crying. Hadn't she decided not to waste anymore tears on that bloody man?! On any man, for that matter.  
"Why?" Abby asked. "What happened?"  
"He's such a bastard…" Susan muttered, weeping away the last of the tears, and, unfortunately also the last of her mascara with the tissue Jing-Mei gave her. Waterproof, bah.  
"Sure acted like one," Chen muttered, searching for a clean tissue in her lab coat pocket.  
  
Susan bit her lip.  
"We worked together in Arizona…" she began.  
  
"And I thought Weaver was bad! I hope Carter doesn't kill him when he hears." Abby said, sounding shocked.  
"He would deserve it," Susan muttered.  
"I know. It'd just be bad for Carter's career."  
They all laughed, knowing this wasn't funny.  
Susan could see that neither Jing-Mei could believe her ears. Who could? She still had trouble understanding the fact that a man who was supposed to be chief over a whole department and its staff didn't care when a doctor got attacked by a colleague in a storage closet. Or, maybe one should say when a female doctor was attacked by a male colleague. The problem for both Ritchie and the chief had seemed to lie within the fact that there was such a thing as female doctors.  
"So he just left? Did nothing…?"  
"Yeah… I couldn't believe it."  
"No kidding…"  
"Did you ever report him?"  
"No… What was I supposed to say anyway?"  
"How about what happened?"  
"That I, new, young, insecure, was attacked in a closet by an attending and that the whole thing was witnessed by the chief of ER who decided not to give a damn? They wouldn't have given a damn."  
  
**2.34 a.m. outside Zagreb  
  
**The green floor tiles were getting a shade he, after having tiled the floor himself when they renovated the bathroom fifteen years ago, knew they shouldn't have. He looked up from the floor, shaking his head, trying to wake up his system and thereby give the floor tiles their right shade again. Unfortunately this physical alarm clock also woke up his digestive system.  
Luka groaned and tried to reach the toilet in time. He was so tired that he barely could keep his eyes open - why did this have to come now?  
He had been sitting on this floor since midnight, feeling sicker every second. Of course he should have known better than to eat anything at all, but he had never been very good at standing up against his mother when it came to food issues, and now when Natalia was involved too it was even more difficult to argue against. She probably thought that this was some kind of protest against her cooking.  
  
As he straightened his back he managed to hit his head against the wall and let out another loud groan.  
"You don't have to wake up the whole house, you know," he suddenly heard a familiar voice from the door. He turned around, seeing Natalia opening the water tap and filling the glass in her hand. He didn't bother to answer, just muttered something and leaning back against the wall, this time without giving himself more headache than he already had.  
"Here. Drink slowly," Natalia said as she sat down next to him on the floor.  
"I know, I'm a freaking doctor!" he snapped, his voice filled with tiredness and frustration, and took the glass.  
"Drink it then," she said calmly, going through her robe pockets in hunt for something else than cigarettes. She had quit smoking when the twins were born, but hadn't been able to kick the habit of having something between her fingers all the time just yet.  
  
He couldn't help but being a bit surprised at her lack of reaction, but then he remembered at whom he had been snapping. Natalia didn't give a damn if someone, not to mention her husband's baby brother, snapped at her. She was the most independent woman he had ever met in his whole life, and he was pretty sure that he'd never meet anyone like her either.  
She was really something, that Natalia, he thought, finding himself humming on a silly song she had sung so many times that it had gotten stuck on his mind and that he still, after not hearing it for over ten years, knew by heart.  
She heard his quiet humming and smiled. Knowing he'd hate it she started humming too, quietly at first but then louder and louder. He groaned.  
"Talia… please, don't torture me. I do that very well myself."  
She just smiled, continuing to hum on the stupid tune her mother once had taught her and that she would teach her daughters and they theirs… An old gipsy melody it was, filled with nonsensical words and lines, all involving the line "she's really something, that Natalia…", sung in different speeds. The Natalia in the song wasn't her, it was someone her grandmother had known many years ago, some old woman that had impressed the whole country with her capacity and determination. She had not been a female Einstein, but she had been able to take care of herself, her family and her dreams in a way that no one had seen before. She had been clever in the street-way, her cleverness and head not gained from heavy books in dusty libraries but from life itself and from what it had given her, good or bad experience hadn't mattered, she had learned something and had passed it down to everyone willing to take it and do something sensible with it. She hadn't been rich but she had been able to live her life with the little money she had had, she hadn't been a great writer or reader but she had been practical, and she was Natalia Kovac's role model number one.  
  
Luka smiled slightly when he saw how Natalia got captured inside her own world as she began to utter the trite lines of the song. They were sitting here, side by side, at a cold bathroom floor in a cold house in the middle of the night, him not being able to sleep because he'd throw up when he least expected it, her not being able to sleep because of the sounds from the bathroom. Sometimes, times like this, he could see what Dubravko saw in Natalia, sometimes, or almost all the time, it was a mystery as big as the one with the Triangle of Bermuda. They had never liked each other very much, he and Natalia, but had never disliked each other either. In some way he had always admired her, admired her for her incredible strength, for her passionate but yet so down to earth way of living. For her being able to stand up against Dubravko, Dragan and his mother whenever she wanted to, something he himself not always had been very successful at doing. For her being able to raise three daughters and still keep the dream of once becoming an actress alive in both her heart and her soul, for her always being so determinded and never giving up, no matter if it was about a broken ear ring she was trying to repair without Dubravko's help, or if it was the dream to someday have enough money to move away from her mother-in-law. Seeing her captured inside her own world like he did now made it clear to anyone that she found it all, all sacrifices and all the trouble she had been through worth it, as long as she got to have this little world of song and dance for herself. She still had the same beautiful and at the same time very personal voice.  
  
Suddenly he reminisced a day many years ago out on the yard. He had been in the middle of his education then and it had been one of his rare weekends home. They had been rehearsing one of the most crucial scenes of Hamlet there in the afternoon sun, exaggerating the drama time and time again before they suddenly became serious. He had been blown away by how ture she seemed as Ophelia that he missed his lines, driving her crazy until he finally got over his fascination over her acting abilities. She hadn't been the one to play against him in the real play of course, but he had never been able to see the girl he had been supposed to be madly in love with on stage as Ophelia – to him Natalia would always be the only Ophelia there was, no matter how many times he had seen the play since his university days or how many women he saw in the lead role.  
  
She stopped singing, leaving him surprised. Her quiet voice had managed to get his messed up and aching head to feel a bit better for a while, had made the world seem a bit less dark and cold for a few minutes.  
Now he was rudely thrown back to reality, his reality with hang overs, leg pain, nausea and Valium addiction, the last the worst. How was he going to be able to kick that habit, how was he going to get out of the squirrel wheel? He knew very well that he couldn't just stop taking the pills after such a long time – that would be a sure way to kill himself. No, he had to keep taking them, just make the doses lower and lower, hoping he'd manage to keep away from the bottles. People who were about to take a step like this should be under medical attention.  
But he was the medical attention and the addict at the same time. This was his reality.  
And people wondered why he had been trying to kill himself.  
  
He took a careful sip of water. When he was done drinking she took the glass from him and put it on the edge of the bathtub, then turned back to him.  
"How are you feeling?" she asked.  
"What does it look like?"  
"I didn't know my cooking was this bad," she said, confirming his suspicions.  
"It's not that, Natalia. It's me… I haven't been able to keep anything down in days."  
"You drink too much."  
"Probably."  
"You shouldn't."  
"No, I shouldn't," he sighed. "And Dubravko, Dragan and dad shouldn't smoke two packs a day either, mum shouldn't drink as much coffee as she does and you shouldn't sing while trying to drive a car. We still do it. It's life, Natalia."  
"And this is coming from a doctor," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.  
"I'm not my job."  
"You used to be."  
"There's a lot I used to be. I used to be a father, I used to have a wife I loved, I used to go straight home from work and not hang around in obscene bars drinking vodka, I used not to treat patients when I was drunk."  
She sighed deeply and looked down at her hands. She was quiet for longer than he had ever seen her, apparently fighting with herself whether or nor she should say what she had on her mind.  
"Luka…" she finally began, sounding a bit unsure on if this was smart to say or not.  
"What?"  
She bit her lower lip.  
"You're going to blow up on me if I say this," she muttered, mostly to herself.  
"Well, I might _throw_ up on you if you're not nice," he smiled.  
She returned the smile, shaking her head.  
"What?" he asked again, this time a bit more persistent. Sure they had had their fights over the years but right now was not a good time. Then he understood what she was going to say.  
"If you're going to say that I should move on and that this is just something temporarily or that I…- Forget it. Dubravko and Susan have already given me that."  
"Susan Lewis?" Natalia asked, suddenly in another kind of voice, as if she was happy to change the subject. It was the same hopeful voice he had heard his mother switch into every time a woman's name came up.  
"Yes," he sighed, too tired to argue. "What about her?"  
"Dubravko told us about her… She is one of your colleagues, right?"  
"Yes," he said again, this time damning his dear brother for this. How much had he told them? Was it just about Susan being the one to find him, or had Dubravko, as Luka strongly suspected, also added his version of when he had walked in on them at the hospital and the long goodbye outside County?  
"Well… _I'm_ hearing…-"  
So he had told them everything.  
"You're hearing wrong," he snapped, wanting this discussion to end so he could forget it had ever taken place. Forget things were one of the few things he actually had managed to do lately. Unfortunately he only forgot important things, stuff like this managed to stay and mess up his mind.  
"I haven't even said anything yet!"  
"Well, considering that what Dubravko has told you is wrong, nothing you've heard about Susan and me is true, so you don't have to say anything."  
"So there is a 'you' then, is there?" she asked, ignoring the last of what he had said.  
"When did I say that?" he asked, annoyed.  
"You don't need to… I have both ears and eyes," she said teasingly.  
"Well, good for you! Now would you please just drop this!"  
"Fine, fine…." she smiled, holding up her hands in surrender.   
"Thank you."  
  
They were quiet for a while, he trying to breathe through the new wave of nausea that hit him, she watching him closely, prepared to help him if it became necessary. When he couldn't fight it anymore and was too tired to even keep his back straight she held her hands on his shoulders and wet a towel with which she gently patted his forehead.  
When he was done he breathed heavily.  
"Jesus, Natalia... won't this ever stop…"  
"You've already spent too much time with Dubravko, I can hear," she smiled.  
"What….?"  
"You don't usually say 'Jesus', he does."  
"Right…" Luka said, not really listening.  
"I'm sorry…" she said after a few moments of silence.  
He just shook his head, as to say that there was nothing to be sorry for.  
"Weren't you about to say something…?" he then asked.  
"Don't think about that."  
"No… Just say it… I need to hear something else than me throwing up and Dubravko snoring."  
She chuckled.  
"Why do you think I came in here? It has only gotten worse over the years, I can tell you."  
He smiled slightly.  
"Say it now."  
She sighed.  
"You're not gonna like it."  
"Tell me."  
"Fine," she sighed and dragged her hand through her hair, looking down.  
"Luka," she began, "I think I knew Danijela pretty well, I might even dare to say I knew her better than you did, on some levels…"  
She looked up from the floor.  
"I _know_ she would never have wanted you to live the rest of your life like this. She would never ever have wanted you to slowly kill yourself like this."  
"Natalia, I…-"  
"You can't punish yourself for the rest of your life! It was **not** your fault. There was nothing you could have done differently."  
"I could have gotten Danijela to the hospital, I could have stayed home, I could have moved here with them the minute the war started, I could have done everything differently, damn!"  
"No, Luka. You have to stop this 'could have, would have, should have'-crap. There was _nothing _you could have done differently. Nothing. Nada."  
She took his hands and forced him to look at her.  
"Luka, listen to me! You have to stop this! You have to allow yourself to live!"  
He tried to look away, but her bright green eyes didn't allow him to do so.  
"You have to let them go, Luka. They will always be with you and you will always love them, but you have to let go."  
"I can't," he said in a thick voice.  
"Yes you can. And you have to. You have to let go, you have to let go…"  
  
She said those words over and over again, and finally they started to sink in. Her voice was breaking through all the walls inside of him, ruining all defence he possibly had possessed against talk like this. She was squeezing his hands, looking straight at him and repeating the words as a mantra.  
"You have to let go, Luka. You have to let go…-"  
The worst of the nausea was slowly fading away, and with the digestive system calm the rest of his body was starting to relax too. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and letting the wonderful land of sleep come closer.  
"We need to get you to bed. We wouldn't want you to fall asleep on the bathroom floor" he suddenly heard Natalia's voice.  
He opened his eyes slightly.  
"No, we wouldn't want that…"  
"Come," she said, raising up and reaching out her hand to him. He took it and somehow managed to get up.  
  
With his sister-in-law's hand over his back he got up, left the bathroom and slowly walked down to the bedroom in the basement. 


	9. Thinking of you, missing you, loving you...

    **Author's comments:** Not so much to say about this one actually... and I always come up with such good comments ;)  
Well, this is... chapter EIGHT, nothing else (damn ff.net that counts prolouge as ch. 1...) - I like it and hop eyou guys do to! Thanks big time to all the people at f4f, the reivewers and Trisse! (The spelling/grammar was BAD in this chapter... poor her ;)  
  
Please keep reading & reviewing and I'll update as soon as possible!!  
**  
CHAPTER EIGHT : THINKING OF YOU, MISSING YOU, LOVING YOU…?**
    The storm was furious and the streets of Chicago were as empty as if they had been vacuumed of all the people usually filling them. Not even the homeless were there; they had all found shelter in empty buildings or staircases.  
Only one shadow moved along the street. A shadow that looked like a grey cloud was rushing up and down the streets, as if it was looking for something very important but had forgotten what it was and now desperately was trying to remember.  
But Susan hadn't forgotten. She wished nothing else than to forget everything, but she couldn't.  
  
She had been wandering around ever since she ended her shift at seven, and now it had already struck midnight. It was probably stupid, almost crazy, to walk around alone, as a woman, at this time of the night, but somehow it didn't trouble her the least. She was totally numb, not feeling anything. Not the cold, not the wind, not the tears streaming down her cheeks. The tears froze to ice on her skin when she didn't bother to wipe them away.  
  
A new gust of wind came and cut right through her, but she didn't care any more about that than about the rest of Mother Nature's attempts to make her go home. Instead she looked around her, surprised to realize that she was standing right in front of the river. She hadn't paid any attention to where she was going – she might as well have wandered right in front of the El without realizing it.  
But she was rather pleased with standing here. The river had always been one of her favourite spots in Chicago, the view was beautiful and somehow all the water floating around without any schedule whatsoever gave her a feeling of freedom that working for Weaver and Romano certainly didn't provide.  
She stared down at the now black water. Usually the soft waves looked happy and free, but now they seemed to be just as furious as the storm above her. The wind was freezing, water and wind meeting and melting together into a big rain cloud, fast moving towards her. The rain started to drip – gently at first but then furiously, as if it wanted to drown her. In only a few seconds she was soaking wet and now the cold December night got her attention.  
It wasn't supposed to rain now, two weeks before Christmas.  
  
Suddenly exhausted by all the walking and crying she sat own on one of the empty benches along the river. She sat there, alone, still crying and dripping water.  
Her heart cried too. It was crying out for somebody, anybody, to come and comfort her. Comfort her; talk to her, hold her.  
Anyone, anyone in the whole world. Even Dix of all people could show up here this instant and she'd throw her arms around him, begging him never to leave. It was so unlike her, this feeling. She had never been the needy kind of woman, but now she was surely acting like one.  
Crying even harder she remembered what Luka had said.  
_"You were braver than me, Susan…you were braver than me."  
_Was she? Was she braver than one of the bravest men she knew?  
"If he once had thought so, then maybe she was"?  
But why wasn't she feeling like it? Why was she feeling totally alone in the world when she knew she wasn't? She had friends. Sure she did. It was just that no one of them was able to show up here and bail her out of her misery right now. Abby and Carter were on a double date with Jing-Mei and Pratt; Elizabeth had gone to see Rachel with Ella. It wasn't like they had abandoned her or anything – she'd see them first thing in the morning. Some already at the El – if Carter still was having problems with his car then he and Abby would jump on the train two stops before her. It wasn't like she was going to be alone forever.  
But it still felt like it. God, did it still feel like it.  
As she thought of this something hit her. All the people she thought of as her friends nowadays were from County. Doctors and nurses.  
Didn't she have a life anymore? What was happening to her? Why was this coming now, a few weeks before Christmas when the hospital needed her the most? She knew she was needed, wanted and that her work meant a lot, meant life for many people. Hundreds and thousands. Just today she had received a thank-you-for-saving-my-daughter's-life-card from a young mother.  
And still she felt like this, as if nothing was worth anything.  
  
It wasn't a new feeling, she recognized it from before. Being lonely at 30+ made these depressions come as scheduled a few times a year. It was nothing new, she just couldn't understand why it hit her right now – she had been doing just fine.  
  
Knowing it was really no use, she opened her handbag, searching for a tissue to wipe away the tears with, even though she wouldn't be able to separate the tears from the rain. Her eyes felt heavy and thick of all the crying, she could barely keep them open, even less see anything in the dark night. Her hands went fast through her bag, touching everything to find the tissues. Her make-up bag, a chart, a pen… finally a paper. She pulled it out of the bag, but as soon as she held it up in front of her she saw that it wasn't a tissue. It was a letter.  
_"To the one who has the bad luck of finding me"  
_Luka's suicide letter.  
  
The envelope was still as neat and white as it had been when Ellie found it.  
Susan stroke a finger over the letter.  
She hadn't read it, hadn't and wouldn't. She didn't want to.  
  
As she stared at the obnoxious letter the tears started to well up again. Why hadn't they noticed something? Why hadn't anybody cared, why on earth hadn't he said something…? She had asked herself the same question at least a million times since she found him on the floor.  
Dubravko had had a point when he angrily had asked her why they, who were supposed to be doctors, hadn't done anything.  
She touched the letter again, letting her fingers caress it as if it was her most precious possession. A possession so valuable to her that she feared it might burst into flames if she let the words within it reach her eyes.  
Simply, she was scared to death of what she might find out if she read it. After having heard what Luka had written to Abby… She couldn't take it, couldn't read what he had thought would be his very last words to the world. Something dreadful inside her kept her from doing it.  
It was paradoxical, ironic. She had read several suicide letters over the years – you found them in suicidal patient's pockets or in more weird places like their shoes or hats. Sometimes you would be the only one to read them, mostly the family got hold of them. Sometimes the recovering patient destroyed them before anyone got the time to ask if they had written anything.  
Suddenly she remembered the last close suicide attempt she had seen, not counting Chloe's countless overdoses.  
Carol's.  
  
She remembered how the ER had been deadly quiet those minutes before the ambulance pulled up outside the doors, how Mark had been trying to act as if his was only one more anonymous case they had in front of them. How everybody had been gathering around the gurney, how people had been whispering and gossiping for weeks. How Morgenstern and the other big guys had been worried about the bad publicity County might get.  
It had all been exactly the same. People had come running from everywhere, screaming, shouting, whispering. Kerry and Carter had been throwing people out of the trauma room, damning and swearing to stop the gossiping. Romano and the other big guys trying to sweep everything under the rug.  
  
When the first chaos was over there had only been the two of them left. Only the two of them. They had been all alone most of the time; at first in the ICU, then in the psych room. At first she had only had her shadow to talk to, then he had woken up. He had needed her so badly, needed her like she somehow had needed him.  
Needed her like she shouldn't have needed him.  
  
It made no sense, no sense at all. They had never said anything else to each other than "let's crack this guy's chest" or "have you seen mr X's x-rays, Jerry has lost them again". Never. How on earth had they managed to end up like they had, interact like they had, those days in that God forgotten room? His gentle hands caressing her cheeks, hers stroking his hair, him letting her cry in his arms, her doing the same thing for him. Her arms around his neck, his hot breath on her skin. The soft accent whispering her name when she cried…  
"God, I sound like I'm in love with him or something," she sobbed loudly, desperate and angry with herself for behaving like this.  
"In love with whom?" she suddenly heard a voice behind her in the dark.  
  
She turned around on the bench and screamed for all she was worth.  
"Who the hell are you?!" she then managed to get out, herself surprised with how steady her voice suddenly was. Survival instinct.  
"Susan?!" the man behind her asked when he heard and recognized her voice, sounding almost as startled as she was.  
The man came up to her. When he was only a few steps from the bench whoever was in charge of the night lights of Chicago suddenly got them working and the light from the lamp behind him lit up his face for her.  
"Ritchie?!" she screamed, really freaked out this time. Sure she had asked for someone, anyone – but "anyone" did surely not include Ritchie Smith.  
  
"What in God's name are you doing here?" he asked, sitting down next to her.  
Out of pure instinct she pulled away from him, grabbing the edge of the bench with her hands.  
"Leave me alone," she snapped.  
"Sure. I'll leave you alone here, in the middle of nowhere…-"  
"In the middle of Chicago!"  
"…- in the middle of the night," he added ironically, ignoring her input.  
"Get the hell away from me…"  
"When I have taken you home…-"  
She gasped.  
"How the hell dare you…-"  
"Home to _you_, that is. I'll leave you there, trust me. Wouldn't wanna go through the same humiliation again, would I," he added, trying to joke.  
She gasped even more.  
"YOU wouldn't want to go through the same humiliation?! YOU! Were you the one that had to defend yourself for months? Were you the one that had to stand up against the whole freaking hospital? Were you the one that…-"  
He held up his hands in front of him in surrender.  
"OK, OK. Got it! Bad joke. Sorry."  
"Go to hell," she said coldly. "Just go to hell."  
"Not before you have let me take you home. You can't hang around here."  
"I can be wherever I _please_," she snapped at him, knowing she sounded idiotic. But manners weren't her top priority right now. Not only had that disgusting man managed to almost give her a heart attack by showing up in the ER as Luka's replacement, now he was intruding in her very own depression too. Did he have to be everywhere? When he left Arizona about a year after the closet incident she had been so relieved. Just a few weeks later she had been promoted to an attending, Chloe had checked herself into a rehab, Suzy had learned to walk and talk – everything had been fine, nice and perfect. It was as if Ritchie had taken everything bad and ugly with him to wherever he had gone. She hadn't known and hadn't been very interested in it either – she had just felt sorry for the poor people that were supposed to work with him.  
  
Ritchie sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. God, was she impossible or what. But sure, what had he expected. Ever since he realized they'd once again would be working at the same hospital he had feared her reaction. He hadn't known how much she still hated him and what he had tried to do – but, judging of her reaction to seeing him standing there in front of her earlier, she hated him more than ever.  
Apparently she had won the whole staff over to her side, just as he had done back then in Arizona. He had certainly not felt very welcomed at Cook County General. Seeing her and having that Chinese woman reading his rights and storm off before he even got her name – it almost made him wonder why bother to change, to question if regret and a growing need to make things up to her were worth the effort. But he still knew he had to, of course – unless he didn't want to end up in jail. The thought of a County jail even made County General seem like heaven. Susan could still cause severe trouble for him – he was surprised that she never had, but done was done and she could pick it up and throw it in his face anytime she wanted to. Before he hadn't really cared, never thought of it as a big deal, but… Things were different now. They had been different ever since last spring.  
  
Of course the not so warm welcome could not only have to do with whatever Susan had told them about him, but also the fact that he only was a temporary replacement for another attending – he had no idea of why the other guy had left, but maybe the staff just felt uncomfortable with Ritchie being there now instead of the one they were used to. He'd just have to prove himself to them, prove that he could be just as good as whomever he was substituting for. The only thing he knew about the guy was his last name that was still on the locker.  
That name had been bugging him all day. There was something familiar with it, but he couldn't place it.  
Well – whatever there was with the name Kovac that bugged him, he'd have to deal with Susan first.  
He sighed again before opening his mouth. He had to do this. Not only for his own and Susan's sake, but also for Rose's.  
"I know I have been an idiot," he began.  
"Really?" she asked ironically.  
"Really," he nodded. "I know that what I did to you was… wrong, but…-"  
"What are you trying here?" she asked, turning to him with a look of disbelief on her face.  
"To apologize, I guess…"  
"Then forget it."  
She turned away from him again, staring at the black water.  
  
Suddenly she felt how he took a grip of her arm, and before she had the time to protest the least he had pulled her up from the bench.  
"Let go off me!" she yelled, suddenly more frightened than snappy. She knew very well what he was like, and even if he might have given the impression of having grown up, she knew better.  
"Don't scream like that, for God's sake!" he said, looking around them as if he expected the Chicago PD to come running and arrest him for a bunch of things, starting with "felony against level of speech in Chicago night".  
"I'm not going to hurt you, trust me! I'm just going to…-"  
"I don't care! Let go off me and never speak to me again!"  
She managed to get out of his grip. He sighed, shook his head and took a step towards her.  
"You leave me no choice," he said, and, faster than what her reflexes could manage, picked her up.  
He carried her to his car, opened the passenger door and basically threw her inside. She fought against him all along, loudly damning both him and his mother.  
  
She stopped cursing when he started the engine and got the car moving. Despite how much she despised the man driving it, the warmth of the car was still nice.  
"Your address?" he asked.  
She snorted, as if they were on some weird kind of date and she had no intention of giving him any continuation of the night. He got her point.  
"I'm not trying to bug you, I'm trying to drive you home."  
Knowing he was right and not wanting to admit it, she turned her attention towards the night outside the window, muttering her address to him.  
When he heard it he laughed.  
"What's so funny?" she asked, annoyed.  
"You're not going to believe this…"  
"What?"  
"I live next door."  
As if he just had told her that Chicago actually was in California and that the winter weather only was there to keep the Chicagoans inside a freezing lie called Illinois, she turned her face back to him.  
"No!" she said. This had to be one of his bad jokes.  
"Oh yes," he chuckled, barely keeping his eyes on the road.  
Furiously she turned back towards the window.  
"Was there no other freaking place in the whole city you could move to?!"  
"It was central. Nice building."  
"I know," she muttered, still not believing this.  
He just laughed and, to her disgust, patted her on her knee.  
"Well, well, Susie… That was one thing I certainly never thought, that we'd be neighbours…-"  
"Get your hands off me!" she snapped, pulling further towards the door, hoping he wouldn't open it up with some weird car-door-being-mysteriously-controlled-from-driver's-seat- system and thereby make her fall out on the pavement in revenge.  
"Susie, please," he groaned. "I'm not…-"  
"And it's _Susan_ to you, damned!" she added.  
He chuckled once again, giving her the impression that he actually enjoyed seeing her angry. This only infuriated her more.  
"People don't call you that anymore?" he asked.  
His question hit her right in the heart.  
  
_"Hey… no crying here, Susie…-" he said with a weak smile.  
She smiled widely when she heard him call her that old nickname. It was such a long time ago since somebody had called her that.  
"What was that?" she asked, still smiling.  
"May I call you that?" he asked.  
"Sure," she said, and got an idea seconds later.  
"…- on one condition," she added with a mysterious smile.  
"That you'll come back. You can call me Susie if you promise to come back."  
He smiled.  
"I promise."  
__"Good."  
  
_"Huh?" he asked, demanding an answer to his question.  
She bit her lip, not knowing what to say. How could she, without sounding like either an emotional wreck or simply a psycho, tell him about the new conditions lying within being allowed to call her Susie…?  
She didn't even have the time to make up half of the explanation in her head before she saw a wide smile spreading on his face.  
"What?" she snapped, having a feeling she wasn't going to like what he meant.  
"He calls you that, doesn't he?"  
If he had been close to giving her heart attacks before, they were nothing compared to this. She just gasped, staring at him. What the hell did he know…?  
"That guy you're in love with," Ritchie added with a grin on his face.  
Hearing that Susan finally got her words back.  
"What?!"  
Well, maybe not entirely.  
Ritchie laughed at her shocked reaction.  
"I heard you, for God's sake. Actually," he added teasingly, "a deaf person could have heard it."  
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"  
"Sure I do."  
"Sure you don't."  
"Sure I do."  
"No you don't!" she yelled, not wanting to play this stupid game which would eventually end up in him changing his statement to "Sure I don't", to make her say "Sure you do" and walk right into his trap.  
She felt her heart beat fast even though she tried to calm down. The storm outside was nothing against all the emotions that were raging through her body.  
You didn't fall in love with someone after spending a few days together. You just didn't. She just didn't.  
She needed candlelight dinners and jazz to fall in love, not a hard chair in a psych room and cafeteria food. This was insane - wasn't, couldn't and wouldn't be true.  
It was just what you could expect from Ritchie, really. So typical of him to make something like this up and then get her to freak out over it. So childish. She really shouldn't care – it was bad enough that she had given him the pleasure of having her defending herself against his accusations.
    She turned back towards the window, trying to concentrate on counting the raindrops on it.  
But she couldn't help how her heart still beat fast at the thought of what he had said and how well it fitted with her own thoughts. Her heartbeat was too fast, her throat dry and her breathing was trying to beat the heartbeat in speed. Trying to stop the panic from coming she, unaware of it, squeezed the letter between her fingers, closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat.  
She wasn't, wasn't, was _not_. She just couldn't be. She was depressed because she was lonely, not because she…  
  
Silence, except for the sounds of the engine, filled the car the following minutes. She stared out of the window and concentrated on her breathing. His attention was turned to the slippery roads.  
When they were ten blocks from the building they both lived in, he broke the silence.  
"So, what _were_ you doing out there?" he asked, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.  
She just stared out of the window. She had no intention of answering. He sighed.  
"Susan, could we please just behave as adults around each other? You don't have to like me…"  
"I don't."  
"I know. And I accept that, but we're not going to be able to work together if you keep this up. It'll endanger the patients, for God's sake!"  
Despite how little she wanted to admit it, he did have a point. No matter how much she hated him personally, they'd still be responsible for the patient's welfare. And she did have a certain feeling that unless she was able to get this to work she'd be next on Romano's people-I'd-like-to-fire-if-I-could list.  
"Fine," she muttered, not looking at him.  
"Thank you," he said, sounding more delighted than she wanted him to.  
"But it's _only_ in the patient's best interest! I'm still not talking to you," she added to avoid any confusion on his part.  
"I know," he said serenely.  
His calm voice was almost annoying her. It became harder to hate him when he didn't give her anything to feed the hatred with.  
"Please tell me what you were doing out there, Susan."  
"Nothing…" she muttered, realizing that she sounded almost like Chloe when you asked her what she was on this time.  
He sighed deeply and stopped the car. She frowned.  
"What are you doing?"  
"I'm not driving another inch before you tell me what you were doing out there in the middle of the night in one of the worst storms this city has seen."  
"Fine," she snapped and began to open her seat belt.  
"Then I'll walk."  
"No, you won't!"  
His voice was determined and he seized her wrist. The hand she held the letter in.  
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked angrily, trying to get away from him.  
"You're not going anywhere until you have told me exactly what the hell you were doing out by the river one a.m. in the morning," he bellowed at her.  
"Since when do you tell me what to do?!"  
Out of pure fury she managed to get out of his grip. As he realized he didn't have control of her movements anymore he grabbed her again, making her drop the letter on the floor.  
She saw the letter falling and tried to take it before he saw it, but she was too slow. He picked up the letter.  
"What is…-"  
He gasped as he saw what stood on the envelope. He slowly turned around, staring at her as if he had seen a ghost.  
"Susan…!"  
"Give me that!" she snapped, reaching out for the letter he held in his hand.  
"Susan, what the hell is this…?" he asked, almost holding his breath.  
"Give it to me!"  
"Exactly what were you thinking of doing there by the river?!"  
Suddenly she realized what he was thinking.  
"It's not mine, for God's sake! Just give it to me!"  
She was surprised at how relieved he was to hear her declare that she still was mentally stable. He leaned back against the seat and she grabbed the letter from him.  
"God, you really scared me," he said, dragging his hand through his hair.  
"Sorry," she murmured, holding the letter tight against her chest.  
  
Ritchie took a few deep breaths before looking at Susan again.  
"Jeez…" he said, shaking his head as if he just had woken up from a nightmare.  
"You really scared me, you know…" he said again.  
"You've already said that. And I'm sorry."  
"Yeah… but what are you doing with it if it's not yours?"  
He looked straight at her, seeing how she pressed the letter against her chest as if she never wanted anyone else to touch it.  
"Oh…" he said, looking down at his feet.  
"Oh what?"  
"It's not yours – it's his, right?"  
She felt as if he had punched her. What was he, a mind reader? A bloody annoying one, but certainly still a mind reader.  
"Who?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady and sound clueless at the same time.  
"You know whom I mean. He who calls you 'Susie'. The guy you're in love with...-"  
"…-or," he corrected himself before she had the time to do it -  
"…- the guy you said you _might_ be in love with, that is."  
Susan bit her lower lip. Water drops from her knitted baby-blue cap were dripping down on her hands, but for all she knew they could have been tears.  
"Yes…" she finally said quietly.  
"It's his…"  
She kept staring at her hands as if they'd disappear if she let them out of her sight, and Ritchie sighed deeply.  
"My God, Susan… I'm sorry. I'm really sorry…"  
  
He looked at her again, this time seeing something else, someone else. She was sitting there as close to the door as she possibly could, holding on the letter as if she tought he'd steal it. She looked so small in the soaking wet winter coat, her face almost grey from all the crying.  
Boy, did he regret yelling at her as he had.  
Suppose he now knew why she had been at the river.  
  
Suddenly, as if she had heard his condolences only then, she looked up.  
"Don't be," she said.  
He frowned.  
"Susan, just because you don't like me it doesn't mean that I can't be sorry for you when somebody you obviously care a whole lot about…-" he interrupting himself, trying to come up with a better way to say what he had to say.  
"…- takes his own life," he concluded, instantly knowing that "kills himself" would have been better.  
She smiled a little.  
"He didn't."  
"No?"  
"No… Carter almost called it, but Luka is a fighter," she said, her smile now wider, introverted.  
  
Ritchie smiled too, just about to say something when his face turned grey.  


    "Sweet Jesus…" he said, once again dragging his hand through his hair.  
Susan stopped smiling and started staring.  
"What?"  
"Oh my God …-"  
"You're not that religious, you might as well spit it out!"  
She felt her heart beat harder again; having a bad feeling about what Ritchie was going to say.  
"I knew it!"  
"Knew what?!"  
"Kovac!"  
  
She would have been less surprised by anything he possibly could have said. And what surprised her the most what how he pronounced Kovac – not "Kouvatj" or "Kouvak" as they used to, but exactly as it should be.  
"How did you…-"  
She wasn't sure if she was going to ask him how he managed to pronounce the name rightly, how had he been able to freak her out and almost giving her a one-way ticket to cardiology once again, or how the hell had he been able to read her mind once again.  
"It's Luka Kovac we're talking about, right?"  
She couldn't do anything but nod. Ritchie just shook his head, apparently just as shocked by how things were turning out as they were.  
"I thought so…" he sighed.  
Finally managing to decide which question to ask first, she opened her mouth again.  
"But how on earth did you _know_?!" she asked, staring at him from under the cap that seemed to be drying up.  
"I know him," Ritchie said simply.  
"Do _you_ know Luka?" she asked, getting more perplex every second. Wasn't it enough that Ritchie was involved with her past – what did he have to do with Luka?  
"Or…-" Ritchie added with a sigh,  
"…- that's not completely true. I think I know him – tall, dark, speaks as much as statues do?"  
Susan just shook her head, not even listening.  
"How?!"  
Ritchie held up a finger as to show her to be either quiet or still. Since she wasn't sure what he meant she stayed both quiet as a mouse and moved as much as Mona Lisa used to while he began to search for something in one of the many bags he had in the backseat.  
A few moments later he turned back to her, this time with a small photo album in his hand.  
"Nice that I'm good at packing, huh," he said, almost sounding as his arrogant self again.  
She just made a face.  
"What's that?"  
"This," he said while turning page after page in hunt for whatever he was about to show her,  
"… is what I am looking for."  
Before she had the time to give his cryptic answer the reply it deserved, he held up the album in front of her.  
"Is this him?" he simply asked.  
She took a look at the picture he pointed at. It was a rather bad picture, a picture of a field and in a weather close to the one currently outside the car. In the middle of the field there were four men and two women, all wearing the "Doctors without borders" coat and behind them something that to her looked suspiciously like the Bosnian flag. Luka was standing between Ritchie and one of the women in the picture.  
"Oh dear…" she said, staring at the photo.  
"It is him, I suppose."  
"Yes…" she said breathlessly.  
"I thought so," Ritchie nodded and put the album back in the bag.  
"Was that the Bosnian flag? On the picture, " she added, wanting to spare herself from one of his jokes. She didn't want to hear "no, that was my bag, I never noticed the similarities," right now.  
He nodded.  
"That is why you speak Croatian!" she blurted.  
He shook his head.  
"For you information Susan, they speak _Serbo-_Croatian in Bosnia. And I don't," he said in a teacher-like voice.  
She rolled her eyes at his lecture.  
"Fine. How do you know Luka?"  
"He was my translator. We worked together."  
"In Bosnia?"  
"Yes."  
"But I thought you came from New York…?"  
"I do. I like travelling. Arizona, Boston, Bosnia, New York, Chicago, what's the difference…"  
"Was Luka your translator?"  
He sighed.  
"Do you have to repeat every single thing I say?" 
    

"Ritchie!"  
"OK, OK… Yes he was. I only know three phrases of the language – 'let's eat', 'where does it hurt' and of course 'I love you' so I really needed him…"  
"I get the two first phrases, but I have no idea on whom you'd be using the third," she muttered.  
He laughed.  
"Just because of that I'll teach it to you…-"  
"I know it," she said quickly, making him grin.  
"So…? I thought you said you _might_ be in love with him…"  
"Not with Luka! I just… read it somewhere."  
"You feel like you wanna hit me?"  
"Don't be childish."  
"Sure…Well, yes. He was my translator there and I really needed him… he was a quick translator but damn was he quiet otherwise… You had to drag every single word out of him. He was completely hopeless to have a normal conversation with… We used to say that he was a suicide waiting to happen…"  
He heard his own words too late.  
"You're right – I do want to hit you," she said coldly.  
"I'm sorry… Susan, I really am," he said again.  
She looked away, not wanting him to see how she had to open and close her eyes to stop the tears from welling up once again. She hadn't thought she had any left.  
"Susan…" he said again, in a gentle voice this time.  
"Stop!" she practically yelled as she wiped away two of the tears she had been unable to control.  
"Stop talking, just drive me home. Please…" she sobbed.  
He turned to her and patted her shoulder.  
"You're going to be OK, Susan. You are one of the strongest women I know."  
She let out a dry laugh between the tears.  
"Strong, brave… Why don't I feel like it?! You guys keep telling me this stuff, and I feel nothing of it…!"  
"You will. You will. You just have to collect yourself together…-"  
"But I miss him! I barely know the man and I still miss him so freaking much that I walked around the whole damn city without even noticing it!"  
She had said it. Or, yelled it, more likely. Yelled it out to everybody that wished to hear her cries.  
"There's nothing wrong with that," he said gently.  
"But I hardly know him! I just… I don't know – one minute I'm comforting him like a friend, the next I'm lying in his arms, not wanting him to do anything else than to kiss me! It's all just so…-"  
"I'm…-"  
"I asked him if he didn't find it weird that I loved an addict," she continued, not listening to what he had been trying to say.  
"I meant Chloe, but now I don't know! Why do I always…- What's it with addicts and me?!"  
Ritchie frowned.  
"I'm not sure I'm following now…? I remember your sister, but…"  
"How could you not, considering…"  
He didn't let her tell the story about all the times Chloe had showed up at the hospital in Arizona, either high or hysterical.  
"That's not important."  
She sighed.  
"Luka and Valium… they have been getting along a bit too well lately…"  
Ritchie sighed with a sad nod.  
"Was that how he…?"  
She shook her head.  
"He was about to hang himself but mixed up between Rohypnol and Valium. Thank God… He passed out just when he was about to put the loop around his neck… If he had been sober enough to read the labels on the bottles then he wouldn't be here anymore…"  
"But he's still not here, is he?" she blurted out while wiping away the tears with a tissue.  
"And I want him to…" she sobbed desperately, leaning back with closed eyes, totally exhausted.  
"I…-"  
"Where is he?"  
"His brother came here. Took him home to his family."  
"To Croatia?"  
She just nodded.  
"And I'm just so afraid that he won't come back… He promised to, but who knows – he hasn't been home since the war and what if he prefers it to this once he gets better…?"  
"If he promised you I don't think he'll be gone forever. He never struck me as someone who broke his promises."  
"I know, but… with the abstinence and everything… he's not thinking clearly… My God, why did I let this happen?!" she cried out and covered her face with her hands.  
He took her hands off her face and forced her to look at him.  
"From what I'm seeing and hearing you did not let this happen, Susan! You were the one to stop it from happening!"  
"But I could have done more… earlier…"  
"Could have, would have, should have. That's crap and you know it. You can still help him."  
"Didn't you hear the part about the Atlantic ocean being in the way?" she asked dryly.  
"Then call him, write to him – anything. He has his own private hell right now – he needs you. And you seem to need him pretty desperately".  
"But what am I going to say…? 'I'll kill myself by not watching where I put my feet without you'? 'I miss you like hell?' 'I…-' "  
"…- love you…?" he added carefully.  
She stared at him.  
"Are you insane?!"  
He held up his hands in front of him in surrender.  
"Only a suggestion, you decide. But do call him."  
She said nothing.  
"Susan. Do call him. Or something. Let him know you're… thinking about him."  
She shook her head heavily.  
"Susan…!"  
"Just take me home now… I'll decide later… I'll call him… I just have to decide what to say…"  
He patted her lightly on her hand before nodding and starting the engine. She was almost lying there in the seat, still sobbing and shivering. Shivering from the cold and wet clothes and all the emotions that welled up inside her. She was totally exhausted; her eyes so heavy that it felt as if climbing Mount Everest was easier than to keep them open.  
The last she heard before she fell asleep to the night radio music as they drove off was Ritchie saying what she already knew deep inside.  
"By the way Susan – you are in love with him." 


	10. Visiting hour

**Author's comment: **I have two huge apologies to make now. The first is for not updating for ages, but you're getting kind of used to it now, I suppose. Have to get better on that…. I have had a very mean case of writer's block the past month, but it's starting to ease up now. Though it's not totally gone yet, it's leaving…  
**The other apology is for this chapter. I don't like it even half as much as all the others together, and I doubt anyone else will either.**  
But I had to finish it in order to get started on the following. And, I promise – those will be better! I swear….  
  
As usual I'm eternally grateful for all the reviews – everytime I feel bad I go and read them. It always helps – THANK YOU!! J Just wishing I could give you something better than this crap in return…  
  
** Thanks for pointing out that I had chosen wrong name for Luka's niece – I fixed that ****J**** Got a bit messed up – blame Kalabrarian philosophy for that… ;)  
  
CHAPTER NINE : VISITING HOUR   
  
**He looked at himself in the slightly steamed up bathroom mirror. It had been a while since he had had the questionable fortune of seeing himself somewhat clearly; he didn't as many others have a mirror in his locker at County, and every time he had gone inside the bathroom at his own place he had been keeping his head down, both so he could avoid meeting his tired self and because it felt like his all-around headache preferred looking at the floor than at the ceiling.   
But as his memory of the house hadn't included where the mirrors were placed he now was staring right into one.   
  
Either Dubravko had given him one of Dragan's shirts by mistake, or he had lost more weight than he had thought. The now very soft blue fabric from too much washing and ironing hung loosely from his shoulders, as if the shirt was at least three sizes too big. There was no way he could have lost _that_ much weight – he'd be a skeleton then. It had to be the wrong shirt.   
  
Still thinking about this possible mix up and what Dragan's reaction to it might be, Luka opened the bathroom door and started limping towards the basement stairs. Slowly but surely, one step after another, tightly holding on to the banister on the wall. The house felt unpleasantly unsteady on its grounds and it was with a deep sigh that he lay down on the bed in the middle of the dark basement room. He could hear the wind outside, surprised at how he hadn't noticed it before – it sounded as if it wanted to break down the walls and get inside the room to freeze him to death.   
  
Slightly sighing and being too tired to do anything than to lay still in the dark he let the sound of the wind be the only thing to fill his head. He was deadly tired. He was supposed to be relaxing and healing, but being here had managed to exhaust him even more. Dubravko was fussing around him as if he was going to take a new overdose any minute, his mother was more upset and rambling than anything he had ever seen her like. One minute she was at the edge of a hysterical fit over what he had done to himself, the next he told him that everything would be fine. He could easily see the fear in their eyes. The cold, black fear that locked out everything else, trying to get first-row seats everywhere. He had seen it so many times – at County, in the war, and in his own mirror. Dubravko and Milena were scared, scared of not being able to handle things in the right way, scared of what was happening. Scared of him.   
  
He had seen it so many times – at County, in the war, and in his own mirror. Dubravko and Milena were scared, scared of not being able to handle things in the right way, scared of what was happening. Scared of him. So they kept up a facade. He had heard Dubravko laugh at the neighbour's worried questions about if he was going to die. Milena tried to be there for him, and to carry on with her own life at the same time.  

His mother also kept up a façade in her own way. She had been talking about every possible subject that came into her mind, anything but her youngest son's addiction or suicide attempt. And, of course, the family was a wonderful subject. There was so much he had missed over the years, she kept reminding him. Before he had been home for even one whole hour she had managed to not so briefly tell him what the family had gone through in the past ten years. He had gotten three nieces, the one more adorable than the other, his best friend Viktor had two children as well. His father had sold a few paintings, but Dragan's farm was doing worse than ever. And the cat had had three kittens. God forbid she'd forget the cat… 

Speaking of the cat. The sound of the wind was suddenly not the only sound in the room. A soft 'meow' broke through the wind, making him frown and slowly turn towards where the sound had come from.  
  
A new 'meow', and a bump in the dark. The cat the sound belonged to had apparently been sleeping in one of the chairs in the corner, and had now been woken up by the weather.   
  
The furry animal stepped into the soft moonlight shining in from the small basement window, stretched and yawned with a bitter look on its face, as if it wanted to tell him that all this was his fault. It sat down on the floor, staring at him, its clear blue eyes being the only thing he could see in the dark.   
"Don't look at me like that," he muttered and closed his eyes, trying not to care about the two cat eyes staring at him.   
The only, but immediate, response he got was a loud meow.   
"Hey," he said a bit more irritated and looked right at the cat again. "Some people are trying to sleep here."   
Even louder meowing, getting closer. He felt the cat jumping up onto the bed, all along meowing loudly.   
It reached him where he lay with his head between two pillows, suddenly it didn't look as bitter anymore, but it seemed almost concerned.  
A cat looking concerned? Great, he really was loosing his mind.   
  
"Hey… you," he said, slowly reaching out towards the cat, suddenly realizing that he had forgotten its name. Natalia had named her at some point – a slightly ridiculous name on a very ridiculous cat. They had never gotten along, he and whatever-her-name-was. But now she suddenly seemed to have forgotten all about how he always had been too busy to interact with her back in her days as a kitten. Or maybe she just felt sorry for him, just as everyone else did.   
"You don't even like me, remember," he added with a tired smile when the cat came closer and started tramping around, searching for a nice place to sleep in the bed.   
As a reply the cat laid down next to him, its warm body pressed tight against his hurting leg. Its loud purring made it clear that it was very pleased with its newfound sleeping space.   
He smiled at the furry creature, sleeping next to him like a little ball of yarn.   
"Well, if you insist," he said and laid back, actually quite pleased with the company, even if it was of a nameless cat.   
  
***   
  
Late night became morning, but it wasn't the sound of Dubravko and Natalia having their daily argument or Dragan loudly slamming the kitchen door on his way to the refrigerator, nor was it the long and loud reading of his rights he received from their mother for making enough noise to wake up half of the village and, more importantly, Luka, that woke him. It was the sound of a tiny voice next to him that pulled him away from the wonderful land of sleep.   
  
His first thought was that the nameless cat somehow had started talking, but then he heard that the voice belonged to a little girl.   
"Jasna…?" he murmured, trying to open his eyes to see to whom he was talking to. Or, who was talking to him, more likely. Before he managed to do so he heard the voice again.   
  
"Hi," the voice said, sounding quite persistent to get some kind of answer.   
  
Finally he managed to open his eyes, but he still couldn't see her. He blinked a few times to clear his sight, with no progress success.  
"What…?" he murmured, realizing that he probably only scared her the way he sounded.   
But apparently the girl wasn't scared of his hoarse and worn out voice.   
"Hi," she said a third time, seeming very surprised that anyone could be so out of it   
Realizing that he was searching for her in the ceiling he turned around.   
  
A pair of squirrel-like eyes met him. The eyes belonged to a small girl, barely tall enough to look over the side of the bed.   
"Hi…" he said tiredly, somehow managing to smile at her.   
"Why are you asleep?" she asked, looking just as innocent and clueless as any girl her age. What was her name? Sanja? Kaja? No, those were the twins. The twins with the raven black hair and Dubravko's ears, according to their informative grandmother. This girl had to be more than two years old – maybe four or five. Janica it was.   
"I'm not feeling so well," he answered, trying to focus his eyes on her and the huge toy rabbit she was dragging along.   
"Are you ill?"   
"Something like that…"   
  
She was quiet for a while, apparently thinking about it. Then she started to climb up on the bed, with very little success.   
"Janica…" he began, trying to stop her. He didn't dare to pick her up because he didn't think his hands would be steady enough, and the velvet rabbit that was almost as big as her wasn't very helpful.   
With a stubbornness she must have inherited from Natalia she somehow made it, climbed over him and finally sat next to him. She didn't see how he took a deep breath to calm down the pain her climbing over him had caused. Her attention was turned towards the sleeping yarn.   
"You have Mačka here," she burst out happily and threw herself over the sleeping animal. Apparently the cat was used to this rather violent treatment, and didn't make any attempt to escape. Luka smiled at the sight of Janica, still in a pink pyjamas and a red bathrobe that was a bit too big for her. She held the cat in a tight grip against her chest in a way that had to be very uncomfortable if you were used to sleeping in corners 22 hours of the day. That cat, his mother's baby, was a rather lazy creature.   
"What's her name?" he asked, slightly nodding at the cat, which apparently had fallen asleep again despite Janica's rather brusque caresses.   
"I already told you. Mačka," she said in her light voice, apparently thinking that he was unforgivably slow today.   
"Right…" he smiled, suddenly remembering what he always had found so ridiculous about the cat's name. Mačka, the cat…   
"She is very pretty," he said, gently caressing the white fur on Mačka's belly with his index finger.   
"Mom says she likes me," Janica said proudly.   
"I'm sure she does," Luka smiled, trying not to sound too tired, although the room had gotten a lot blurrier during the past minutes. He couldn't really separate the velvet rabbit from the pillow it was laying on.   
"You don't talk like dad does," Janica suddenly said, looking right at him.   
"I don't…?" he asked, rather surprised at this unexpected statement.   
"No."   
"Do you mean that I use different words?"   
"No."   
He raised his eyebrows.   
"Then what do you mean?"   
"It doesn't sound the same."   
"No?" he asked with a smile.   
"It sounds funny when you say it."   
"It does?", he said with a laugh, both at her way of telling him that he didn't pronounce words like Dubravko did and at the look on her face when he started laughing.   
"Why are you laughing?" she asked.   
"Sorry," he said.   
She seemed to accept his apology.   
"You are weird."   
He chuckled again.   
"You think?"   
She nodded.   
"Where do you live?" she asked.   
"In America," he said. "Do you know it?  
She nodded again.   
"It's that big land across the water where they have big houses."   
He chuckled.   
"Something like that."   
"Dragan says Americans are extortionists," Janica said, sounding serious.   
"I'm sure he does," Luka smiled. At least one person in this family hadn't changed.   
"Are you an extortionist?" she asked and made him laugh once more. It was fully apparent that Janica didn't have the slightest idea of what the word "extortionist" meant.   
"No," he smiled. "And neither are the Americans I know."   
"Are you American?"   
"No, I'm Croatian, just like you. I'm your dad's brother," he added.   
"Are you Dragan's brother too?"   
"Yes. I have two brothers."   
"I have two sisters," she said.   
"Yes, I know."   
"But they are just babies," she said, sounding bored. "They can't play."   
He smiled.   
"You'll just have to wait a while. Then you will have lots of fun together."  
"Hmm," she muttered, looking down on Mačka.  
  
"Then why does your words sound different?"  
At first he didn't understand what she meant, but then he understood that they were back to the pronunciation discussion.   
"I haven't spoken Croatian for a long time," he explained. "I moved away long before you were born."  
She looked closely at him, still with Mačka in her arms.   
"Why did you do that?"  
He sighed deeply.   
"Something… Something sad happened, and I felt that I didn't want to stay…" his voice trailed off, and he tried not to let it show.   
"Did somebody die?"   
He smiled sadly.   
"Yes. Somebody died…"   
"Who?" Janica asked in her tiny voice.  
"… I had a girl, about your age. And a boy, a bit younger than Sanja and Kaja…"   
Should he tell her this? Probably not. She was just four or five years old, probably five as she spoke quite well – but, of course, she had talkative parents from whom she had gotten that skill. Well, whatever her age, she needn't worry about these things.   
"They died?"   
"Yes."   
"Did their mom die too?"   
Luka just nodded, not knowing if she was just guessing or if she knew.   
"Then they are with their mom," she said. "They are not alone. And God is there too, so he can keep an eye on them."   
He couldn't help but to be touched by her words. Who needs a shrink when there are five year olds…   
"Yes, you're right…" he said slowly and tried to smile at her. But it was getting harder to keep up this conversation, no matter how much he enjoyed it. His sight had only gotten blurrier, he could barely see Janica clearly anymore. Instead he was seeing shadows he knew shouldn't be there and felt an unpleasant taste of metal in his mouth. The headache was coming back as well. He slightly changed his position in the bed in an attempt to stop it, but it only made the pain worsen.   
Janica had to get out of there, he couldn't let her see…   
  
"Janica…-" he began. "You…-"   
He couldn't get any further, and he could see that he was scaring her. It really didn't improve the way he felt.   
Suddenly he heard steps in the stairs and Natalia's voice.   
"Janica! Janica…!"   
At the sound of her mother's voice Janica looked up from Mačka's fur, on which she apparently had been doing some sort of thickness-check the past minutes.   
"Mama!" she answered, her answer speeding up Natalia's steps and making her come inside the room. When she saw Janica sitting there with Mačka and Luka she just shook her head.   
"Janica, come here! Leave Uncle Luka alone!" She snapped her fingers and pointed at the door.   
"Go upstairs! Migom, immediately!"   
Janica let go of Mačka and climbed over Luka again, almost making him scream when her foot touched his ill leg when she slid down to the floor. She waved at him before disappearing upstairs.   
  
Natalia sighed.   
"Luka, I'm sorry. I was feeding the twins and arguing with your stubborn brother at the same time – she just disappeared."   
Luka just raised his hand.   
  
"It's OK…" he said, slurring the words a bit. Suddenly he realized that he had said it in English.   
Natalia smiled.   
"Luka, you're home. You don't have to speak English to me."   
He smiled and tried to form the sentence in their mother tongue, but to his consternation he wasn't able to do it. He couldn't say "It's OK" in Croatian. He couldn't remember how to form the words, he couldn't get them out. He knew how they were supposed to sound, but was completely unable to say them.   
  
The room was darkening despite the morning sun. The walls moved towards him, falling in, waking a claustrophobia he never had known he suffered from. He started breathing heavily, trying to use every trick he had ever taught his patients.   
  
Natalia took a few steps towards the bed and sat down at his bedside.  
"Luka…?"   
"I can't," he said desperately, still in English.   
"What do you mean?" she asked gently.   
"I can't say it…!" he said, panicking. This was one of the most frightening things he had ever experienced, being completely unable to speak his own language. He could understand what Natalia said, but replying was impossible.   
  
First he had lost his English at the airport, now he was loosing grip of his own language. When Janica had said that it sounded funny when he spoke he had only laughed – after being away for so long that was just what you had to expect. Sure he had tried to keep the language living while in Chicago, but it was difficult when you had no one to use it with. It was not weird, he had known all along that it eventually would happen. But not like this. It felt as if a thick glass wall was rising in front of him – he could see life behind it but was unable to participate in it. What if he never got the words back? He would not be able to speak to his own mother without a translator.

"Ssh… " He heard Natalia say, taking his hand. "Just calm down …"   
  
But he couldn't. The walls were falling in; pictures and voices once again filling his head. Everything seemed to melt together: the bed, the walls, the room, only leaving a surreal feeling of fog and darkness. Glass walls rose and crashed all around him, lights blinked, shifting colours and shades in a speed that, if they had been sprinters, would have gotten them into the books of sport history that his father kept in the living room.  
  
Through the thick fog he heard somebody call out his name over and over again, but he couldn't answer. The words wouldn't come out and the room was spinning. The sounds inside his head became louder, and suddenly he saw shadows rising­­­ in front of him. The sight made his mind clear up, or maybe clear up wasn't a fair description of what was happening.   
Suddenly the unbearable pain disappeared, and he felt a gust of a soft wind wipe away the fear and panic. He became still, calmer than ever before. From far away he could hear voices, upset, screaming. But it didn't affect him, he didn't care. He never wanted to leave this state, having this soft wind blowing, not being in any pain…   
  
The wind ruffled his hair, wiped away the cold sweat from his forehead. It was a wonderful feeling, almost as drugging as the pills. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice in the wind, coming closer. The voice whispered his name, gently, and in a tone he had heard every day what seemed like a lifetime ago.  
He realized who it was, and a smile spread across his face.   
  
"Danijela…" he whispered and reached out with his hand, not believing what he was hearing.   
"Yes," he heard her say, and just a moment later she stepped out of the shadows and sat down next to him – if it was on the bed in the basement or not he couldn't tell. Everything except her face and voice was gone. It wasn't blurry, just gone. A total emptiness surrounded them, and she took his hand. He could feel her touch, similar to the caresses on his forehead. It hadn't been the wind, he happily realized.   
"It was you…" he said, trying to smile like he used to smile at her. But it had been 12 years and apparently he hadn't smiled like that for a long time, because he couldn't. This realization devastated him. Never had it been so obvious that he wasn't the man he once had been.   
"Yes," she said, still with the same smile "it was me."   
"Thank you…" he said in a weak voice, squeezing her hand.   
"Don't speak," she said and caressed his forehead again, making him quiet. Her voice sounded the same, but still it didn't. It sounded as if it came from somewhere far away even though she was sitting next to him.   
"I don't have much time on my hands. Marko has just learned to walk, and he is tumbling around, just like Jasna used to… But I wanted to see you. I had to stop you."   
He frowned, feeling the need to interrupt her.   
"Why…?"   
She smiled.   
"It's not time for you yet," she said simply.   
"It wasn't time for you either," he protested, but she just smiled.   
"Yes, it was. Somehow…"   
"No!" he said, managing to make himself heard. This was great; they met for the first time in ten years and spent their time arguing.   
"I want to come with you…" he added in a weaker voice, leaning back. "Please…"   
"It's impossible," she said gently.   
"But I miss you so…" he said in a thick voice. "I love you…. I can't live without you…"   
"Yes, you can," she said, still caressing his forehead.   
"No…" He shook his head, feeling the desperation grow. He wanted to go with her; he never wanted her to leave again. Suddenly he understood why she didn't want him to come with her.   
"I didn't mean it," he said desperately. "None of those women meant anything to me, I promise you… I love you, only you… Please, please…"   
"I know, Luka. I know."   
"Please let me come with you… I want to see them, I want to tell them that I love them…"   
"They know," she said calmly, seeming distant.   
"But…-"   
"You have to be happy, Luka," she continued, her voice sounding as if she was standing in the middle of a great church, preaching something he didn't want to hear.   
"I can't."   
"Yes, you can. I can't stand to see you like this. You can't keep living in what has been, nor think about what could have been. You need to live in what is and what will be."   
"I would be happy with you."   
"No, you wouldn't be. You are not meant to be here yet, and therefore you could never be happy here. You must go back to what you have."   
"I don't have anything," he protested. "The only thing I have is you."   
"No, Luka. You have to open your eyes. Open your eyes and see what you have."   
"I don't…"   
"Let her in, Luka. Let her help you."   
He frowned again.   
"But…-"   
She turned around and sighed, as if she had looked at a clock on the wall and realized that she had already spent too much time down here.   
"Luka, my time is up. I have to go back. They need me."   
He shook his head, panicking again.   
"No! Danijela, please, stay…! I have to talk to you, I have to tell you…"   
She put a finger on her lips, and as if it had been his lips she sealed, he became quiet.   
"I have to go back," she said.   
"I have to leave."   
She leaned forward, stroked his hair and gently kissed his forehead.   
"I have to leave…"   
He sat up in what he now after all realized was the bed, and reached out towards her.   
"No, please, don't…!"   
She shook her head; the dark curls surrounding her unusually pale face. She rose from his bedside, blew him a kiss and faded back into the shadows that quickly swallowed her.   
Broken and defeated he laid back, for the first time surrounded by a deep, crushing silence.   
  
***   
  
Everything was quiet, but suddenly a light lit up somewhere in front of him. It shone through his closed eyelids, disturbing his dreamless sleep. In attempt to lock it out he squeezed his eyes tighter together, but the light only became stronger and he had to open them, just enough to see if there was someone who would shut the damn lamp.   
  
He opened his eyes.   
  
He saw white, square tiles. The ceiling was tiled with clear white, square tiles. Hospital-white. Trying to figure out where the hell he was he took a deep breath, but before his mind started working, his nose did. Despite Croatia being a republic he coughed for King and Country as the smell of the room reached his system. Dear God, where was he? A morgue? If that was the case, then the cleaning routines here seemed to be dramatically different from the American ones.   
  
"So you are awake," he suddenly heard a voice. A very familiar voice this time too, but not the one he might have expected.   
  
He slowly turned his head towards the place where the voice came from. A few seconds later he looked right into his father's eyes.   
"Hi…" he said with a weak smile, realizing that he sounded almost like Janica earlier.   
"Hi yourself," Tito answered with a smile. He was sitting on a chair next to the bed.   
Luka looked around, amazed and confused by the sudden change of surroundings and company.   
"How…? Where…?" were the only things he managed to get out. But his father understood.   
"You're at the hospital."   
"In Zagreb…?"   
Tito shook his head.   
"No, at the local clinic. Doric didn't think it was necessary to move you."   
Luka smiled slightly when his father mentioned the chief of the clinic. For some reason no one ever called Dmitri Doric by his first name. Few even knew he, as most people did, had one.   
"But how are you here…?"   
"Dubravko called me. Or," Tito added with a wide smile – "actually, Natalia called me but I heard your brother loud and clear in the background. You know how he gets."   
  
They both chuckled, but soon Luka started coughing again. He tried to move a little, only to realize that everything hurt again. Out of pure desperation he slowly sat up in the bed, thinking that it might help.  
Surprise, surprise – it didn't.   
As he was about to lay back again he felt that something was in the way. He frowned and slowly reached out with his hand towards the disturbing element, and fished up Janica's velvet rabbit. He frowned even more as he looked at it. Tito smiled again.   
"She has been taking very good care of you," he said.   
"Is she here…?"   
Tito nodded at the window out to the corridor. Luka turned his gaze towards it and saw Dubravko, Natalia and Janica outside.   
"They have been very worried about you. They might not show it in a way you appreciate, but they still are." Tito said.   
"Mmm," Luka murmured, barely listening. He closed his eyes again, not being able to keep them open. He was so tired… The sound of his father's voice was very calming, lulling him to sleep. But he didn't want to fall asleep, not now. There was so much he wanted to say, so much to tell… He suddenly felt like when he was still in med school and his father had been the only one who had listened to his descriptions of the cases he saw and the most fascinating conditions with genuine interest. Dubravko and their mother could barely stand the sight of blood, and Dragan was always doing something else. But Tito had always been listening. They had been down in the basement bedroom. Tito had been painting and Luka had been arranging objects or cleaning brushes while talking about something his attendings had been discussing. Those were the days… Now he couldn't remember when he last had been fascinated by a medical case.   
  
But he wanted to say something.   
  
"I saw Danijela," he finally said.   
Tito smiled.   
"I hope you greeted her from me."   
Luka smiled a bit and laid back, handing the rabbit to Tito before falling asleep.   
"Give this to Janica…. I think she needs it more than I do."   
But Tito didn't take the rabbit out to the corridor to his granddaughter. Instead he placed the rabbit back on Luka's pillow.   
"I'm not so sure of that," he said with a smile.  
  
He was still sitting there half an hour later, smiling at his youngest son, when a nurse opened the door.  
"Visiting hour is over, sir."


	11. Woman in love

**Author's comments: **Well, well… I'm not even going to start to apologize – you all know that this, again, has taken thrice as long as it should have.  
  
I hope you still put up with me, because with this chapter this story is taking a bit of a turn – I hope you like it, I have spent a great deal of thought on the storyline, and I decided to use this one… I'm motivated to write it anyways, and make sure to keep me that way, **lol** – translation; make sure you review it ;)  
I LOVE all of you that have reviewed so far, I still can't believe how nice you are… J**  
  
CHAPTER TEN : WOMAN IN LOVE   
  
6 a.m. 9th December, Chicago  
  
**A high, bright sound cut through her head like a knife. Thinking that the sound somehow came from inside her head, Susan squeezed her eyes together and switched positions in the bed, trying to catch up with the sleep that just until seconds before had been surrounding her like a soft, white, fluffy cloud. Not to mention that she had been having a wonderful dream.   
  
But the sound only became sharper, and a ray of light teased her eyes no matter how hard she tried to keep them closed. Just as she was coming to terms with the fact that she was waking up and the wonderful dream only would remain a memory, she realized that the bright sound wasn't only a sound, but the sound of a happy and, unforgivably awake, voice.   
"Good morning Chicago! It's 7.30 and I'm Peter Brown, your guide through the rainy weather. As you all have noticed it's raining like hell out there, but that doesn't matter when you have the golden opportunity to get all your favourite songs played by us and send granny your greetings in between. Yeah, that's right. Just call this number…-"   
  
With a loud groan she reached out with her hand towards Peter Brown's voice, and just as he was repeating the number to the studio for the second time, she hit the "off" button and shut him up.   
"God," she muttered and buried her face in the pillow. Who the hell had put the alarm on seven thirty…?   
"The worst thing is that I probably did it myself…-" she muttered, slowly sitting up in the bed, knowing very well from past experiences that she wouldn't get any more sleep this morning.   
  
Her hand was halfway through her messy hair when she realized that the room around her wasn't her bedroom.  
  
This realization made her wake up completely in less than seconds. Just where the hell was she? Feeling both confused and frightened she looked around her, not recognizing one single thing. A simple bedroom, white walls, boxes on the floor, the boxes filled with books and something that looked like an extravagant bedspread or maybe just an ugly table cloth. No fresh flowers on the cabinet, no books by Barbara Wood or Belva Plain on the nightstand. Instead there was the alarm clock, shaped like some sort of vehicle, yesterday's Chicago Times, an unopened pack of cigarettes and a lighter with an obscure motif on it.   
  
She tried to hide the fact that the sight of the plain white walls had ripped up something that felt like a fresh wound, letting disappointment and heartache stream out instead of blood, leaving an empty pain left, much worse than any physical wound could cause. 

In her dream the bedroom walls had been made of brick.   
  
Sounds from the other side of the door threw her back to reality. The door was opened and Ritchie stepped inside the room. She gasped at the sight of him.   
"How…?" She began, before she suddenly remembered what had happened last night. But hadn't he said he'd drive her home…?   
  
As if he could read her thoughts, he started explaining.   
"I couldn't get into your apartment – so I figured that it'd be best to come here…" he said.   
She frowned.   
"You could have used my keys," she said.   
He smiled.   
"You were fast asleep, and I didn't want to wake you by asking how the hell do you organize that mess you call your handbag."   
"It's no mess," she protested, making him smile even more.   
"No?"   
"No, it's not! Just… creative packing," she muttered, knowing that he was right. She really should organize that old purse of hers sometime. It was a rather good brand, after all. She had bought it for her first salary at the gas station where she had spent a summer in high school – her mother had screamed that she was nuts, but Chloe had loved it just as much as Susan did herself. They used to have the bag in turns – every time Chloe applied for a job she used it, thinking that carrying a DKNY bag would make her seem more qualified. Well, considering that she only applied for jobs that mainly were about arranging cans on shelves, it didn't help that much.   
  
But it was still a good memory, Susan thought with a little smile on her face, playing with the fringes of the blanket while trying to ignore that Ritchie was looking at her in a rather persistent way.   
  
He sat down at the end of what apparently was his bed, pulling up the legs of his black suit-trousers to avoid getting too many creases on them.   
"You on your way to court?" she asked dryly, hoping that this lame attempt to joke about his fancy clothing would stop him from asking the questions she knew he, if he was anything like most people – would ask.   
He chuckled.   
"No. Work."   
Obviously, she thought tiredly and once again let her fingers turn to the fringes of the blanket.   
He gave her a through look.   
"How are you feeling?" he asked with what she couldn't deny was honest concern, in his voice.   
"I'm fine," she said, still toying with the fringes and avoiding his gaze.   
"You weren't last night," he said taking her hands off the blanket and forcing her to look at him. She looked into his brown eyes for a second, then letting her tired gaze turn to the white, cell-like walls, almost feeling ashamed. Knowing that he had picked her up, listened to her teary ramblings, driven her home and let her sleep in his bed – it was all too much to take from an old enemy.   
He sighed and looked down at the floor for a minute before starting to talk again.   
"Have you thought about what to say to him?" he asked quietly, not wanting to push her but still wanting an answer.   
"Ritchie, please don't…" Susan shook her head and held up her hand, looking down at the blanket.   
"I can't say yet," she added, finally looking up and straight at him.   
"But you will have to soon," he said, locking their gazes together.   
"You don't have to make some grand speech…-"   
She let out a dry laugh.   
"I'm not planning to either, believe me!"   
"… just say something, anything," he continued, ignoring her dry input.   
  
Seeing that she still didn't take what he said seriously, or at least not finding it reply-worthy, he once again tried to give her a proper subject to take the forthcoming conversation from.   
"Well, what do you usually talk about?"   
Once again she gave him a dry laugh.   
"What we talk about? X-rays? Patients? We don't talk, never have – that's the problem."   
  
Ritchie sighed, getting short on subjects and, to be honest, patience. If this was what being in love made the usually so talkative and strong Susan Lewis turn into – then he surely was glad her feelings wasn't meant for him.   
"Then why are you in love with him?" he asked, trying not to sound too impatient.   
"I don't know!" She whined, hiding her face in her hands and shaking her head.   
Now Ritchie's patience was up. He grabbed her hands and forced her to look at him.   
"Susan, get a grip!"   
She gave him an angry look and tried to get out of his grip, but, just as last night, he was much stronger.   
"What the hell do you think you're…-" she began, but he interrupted her.   
"This is not the Susan I know…-" he said, still annoyed, but also still with concern in his voice.   
She looked down again, biting her lower lip.   
"-…or," he added, "…- the Susan Luka knows, and it definitely ain't the Susan you will want him to know. You will have to collect yourself together, for God's sake! Like this you'll never be able to help anyone, even less able to help the depressed, suicidal Valium addict you for some reason are in love with."   
She kept looking down, and he sighed deeply, getting up from the bed.   
"I have to go. Think about what I said."   
  
He stood up, picked up what apparently were his keys from the mirror table and headed for the door when he suddenly stopped, starting to go through his pockets as if suddenly having remembered something he couldn't get through the day without.   
She saw it, and thinking that she knew what he was looking for she turned to the nightstand.   
"Looking for these?" she asked, holding up the cigarette pack.   
He turned around with a surprised look on his face. When he saw the cigarettes his face got a sheepish look instead.   
"Yeah. Trying not to."   
She frowned.   
"Trying to quit by having an unopened pack on the nightstand?"   
He smiled.   
"Got one in every room. Self-torture."   
"Right…" she said, looking at him and letting the first smile of the day spread over her face.   
He laughed, the boyish grin making him seem younger than he was.   
She watched him as he went through his pockets once again, and suddenly she saw bits and pieces of all the men she had ever trusted in him. Carter's boyishness, Doug's friendliness, Mark's genuine concern… and Dix's bad sense of humour too.   
She tried for several minutes to find something of Luka in him, but without success. At first she was bugged by it, but she came to peace with it after a while.   
  
Maybe Luka was too complex to have obvious similarities with anyone.   
  
Ritchie seemed finally to be done with his pockets and turned back to Susan.   
"Think about what I said, OK?" he said again.   
She nodded.   
"I will."   
"You might think about unpacking a few boxes too, while you're at it," he said with a smile.   
"You wish!" she laughed, playfully throwing a pillow at him.   
  
He left after assuring her that she could stay in the apartment even without organizing his books, and while eating the strawberry yoghurt Ritchie practically had forced upon her, Susan took a look around the apartment. It was very similar to hers of course, but the fact that it was next door to her place made everything seem reversed, and therefore pretty funny. His bathroom was where her bedroom was, and her dining table was standing next to his stove, only the wall between them. As she ate the yoghurt and wandered around the flat she realized that Ritchie had quite a personal way of unpacking – there were ten books in one bookcase, four in the next one and only a few framed photos in the third, standing alone on the shelf in a way that made them seem rather lonely.   
  
"Why did he leave you here…?" she said to the frames as she walked up to them, not noticing the weirdness of having a conversation with three framed photos.   
She stopped right in front of the bookcase, and suddenly saw that her framed friends weren't as lonely as they seemed – next to them laid a bunch of other pictures, just waiting to be framed.   
"Hey, you're here too," she said cheerily, as if she just had seen half of her graduating class standing in front of her.   
She picked up the pictures, and looked at the first ones. They were mainly of mountains and other nature sceneries, and suddenly she remembered that Ritchie was an enthusiastic mountain climber that had been spending more time in the Grand Canyon than in Phoenix while she was in Arizona. Once he had been limping around the ER for weeks after spraining an ankle on one of his many filed trips.   
  
Every once in a while a woman came up on the pictures, short brown hair, nice smile. Out of curiosity Susan turned back and forth on the pictures, trying to find any lead whatsoever to who she was. The fifth picture was already turned upside down, and she turned it right, expecting to see the unknown woman again. But she didn't. Instead of seeing the woman on the picture, she looked right into Luka's eyes.   
  
He was sitting at some sort of table, with the same Doctors Without Border's coat that he had been wearing on the picture Ritchie showed her in the car last night. The look on his face was frowning - as if the first thing he would ask Ritchie when he was done photographing was what the hell he was doing with a camera in the middle of a war zone.   
His eyes were even more soulful than usual, seeing right through her. She shivered at the sight, as if the photo brought back memories from way back, memories of a man she thought she had known, but that now was slipping away from her.   
  
Unaware of that she did it, she let her fingers caress his hair on the picture. The Bosnian wind was playing with it, making her remember the feeling of dragging her hands through it. A pleasant feeling it was, and she closed her eyes for a second, letting recent events come back to her.   
  
Everything was insane. She was standing here like a complete fool, not knowing why she felt like she did and even less knowing what she did feel. Thinking about Ritchie's rather harsh summary of things, she sat down on his couch.   
_"Like this you'll never be able to help anyone, and less the depressed, suicidal Valium addict you for some reason are in love with."_   
  
It was a way to put it, but she had to admit that it was better than anything she had come up with to summarize things. She knew he was right – she wasn't herself and she had to get her head back where it belonged. Start behaving like an adult, for God's sake.   
  
Even more annoyed with herself now than a few seconds ago she rose up from the couch and walked up to the mirror in the hall. She stared at herself, locked her eyes in the ones in the mirror. Old make-up all over her face, hair looking like it hadn't been either washed or brushed for ages.   
"Why are you in love with him?" she asked the mirror, her voice almost accusing, as if she was asking a diabetic patient why on earth he wasn't taking his insulin.   
"I don't know…."   
The mirror image whined, and she got even more annoyed. It was like the woman in the mirror was only a part of her, a part she wanted to erase, never wanted to have to face again. It was the woman that had cried her heart out on a bench, the woman that couldn't make herself go home to her own apartment but chose to be an intruder in an apartment owned by a man she thought she knew, but that now suddenly seemed to have done a 180 into a totally different person. It was a woman that wanted a man to take care of her. A needy, whining woman she didn't want to be.   
  
And, utterly – a doctor that had fallen in love with her patient. The deadly sin. It didn't happen often, but when it did it was despicable. Wrong, horrible, forbidden. Professors and teachers used it as an example of everything that wasn't being a doctor.   
  
She knew very well that she was exaggerating a bit, but to get some sort of balance between the woman in the mirror and the one in front of it she felt that every was exaggeration needed. She wanted to blame the woman in the mirror for everything, wanted to make her so wrong and so horrible that she somehow would disappear from the surface of earth – be wiped away, disappear like a dead leaf in a stormy autumn night. Blaming the woman in the mirror for committing the deadly sin would make the woman in front of the mirror seem good in comparison – she had only fallen in love with a friend. An addict and deeply depressed person, but still.   
  
With a sigh Susan broke the intensive eye contact with her mirror image. She was being childish. There was no difference between the woman in front of and inside the mirror, that was a little girl's game she had played in her and Chloe's bedroom twenty-five years ago. There was no mirror woman and no deadly sin committed. Luka wasn't a random patient, and she wasn't his doctor. That she had let her emotions carry her away a snowy December afternoon was no excuse for acting like a zombie. She could walk around Chicago, she could talk to photographs and mirrors but she would still not get rid of the insane feelings inside of her. The only way to do that was to confront them. Not confront them through a mirror or another woman's mind, but to face them head on and not act like a teenager with a crush.   
  
She had put a stop to her life as a teenager the day Dr. Kayson came rolling in on that gurney, and she wasn't intending on going back.   
  
After taking a deep breath and dragging her hand through her hair she went to the door, opened it and left Ritchie's unpacked boxes behind as she walked into her own apartment. The door slammed shut behind her, and she fixed her eyes on the phone on the hall table in front of her.   
  
**Croatia **

He cursed loudly when he heard the sharp ringing of the phone cut through the room inside. Not intending on going back inside he froze on the veranda, letting it ring twice, three times. After the fourth he took a deep breath and yelled loud enough to be heard in the basement.   
"Natalia!! Answer, damned!"   
Five times, seven.   
Dubravko swore again and pulled the door, running towards the direction of the sound. As the ninth ring faded out he picked it up.   
"Kovac," he said while trying to pull off his right glove with his teeth.   
It was quiet in the other end for a while, but then he heard the same, in comparison to Natalia, light voice that he had heard about a week ago in the same phone.   
"Dubravko…?" she asked, almost sounding nervous.   
He shook his head in disbelief, almost laughing. Susan Lewis it was, no doubt about that. That she actually called…. He hadn't believed she would.   
"Yes," he said, wondering what she wanted.  
He could almost hear her taking a deep breath back there thousands of miles away.   
"How… How have things been?" she managed to get out.   
He bit his lower lip.   
"Fine," he lied, not really knowing why but the minute he let out the words he knew it had been the right thing to say. How would the truth make things any better? It wasn't like she could do anything to help from where she was. He didn't want her help either.   
She let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.   
"So, is Luka doing better then?"   
"Sure…" Dubravko said absently, staring out of the window in order to avoid the crucifix on the wall in front of him. The view outside surprised him – it was snowing. It must have started only seconds earlier.   
"Can I talk to him?"   
Her question made the snow disappear in front of his eyes. He dragged his hand through his hair, cursing under his breath, still turned away from the crucifix.   
"No…" he began, not having a clue about what to say next.   
He could almost see the doctor-like frown on her face. He didn't know why he called it doctor-like, actually – he always connected anything bad with the hospital world, both because he himself almost fainted at the sight of blood, but also because of what that world had done to Luka.   
It was pretty ironic, actually. How much hadn't he sacrificed to get there, and then it almost killed him.   
Her inevitable question came faster than he had expected.   
"Why not?"   
He could hear something else in her voice now – first she had been nervous, then relieved, now there was a third emotion. Fright? Anxiety? Maybe even desperation.   
"Why not?" she repeated her question, and now he could tell that it was fright that filled her voice.   
He grabbed the first excuse he could come up with.   
  
"He's asleep," he said, coldly counting on she wouldn't ask him to wake Luka up.   
Once again he could hear her exhale heavily. Relief again, even more than last time.   
"Well, let him sleep then," she said, sounding as if she smiled.   
He nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see it.   
"I'll tell him you called," he said in a somewhat normal voice, trying not to show how glad he was that she had believed him.   
"If you would," she said, almost sounding happy for the first time during the conversation. Knowing that she only was relieved because he had lied to her gave him a unpleasant feeling, but he tried to shake it off him. What did it matter, what she believed or knew. And, the odds that Luka indeed was sleeping were very high. As a matter of fact he hadn't opened his eyes in almost two days. They said that he was only barely conscious, but as long as his heart beat strong there surely was nothing to worry about….   
No, what would be better if she knew?   
He was just doing her a favour.   
Telling himself that, he hung up, only to see Natalia standing on the threshold to the kitchen.   
"Who was it?" she asked - not angrily, but not exactly calmly either.   
Thinking there was no need in lying to his wife too, he told her the truth.   
"Susan Lewis. That American doctor, you know…"   
He didn't get any further before Natalia interrupted him.   
"When is she coming here then?"  
He frowned, honestly surprised.   
"What?"   
Natalia crossed her arms over her chest, pulling the red cardigan tighter around her as she saw the snow outside. Or maybe she just felt the normal temperature of the hall, which usually was about the temperature outside. He should really do something about that ventilation system sometime. It worked a bit too well.   
"I take that you told her to come here," she added calmly looking straight at him.   
"No," he said with a laugh, wondering where his wife got all her ideas from.   
"Why on earth not?"   
He laughed again.   
"You're serious, aren't you?"   
She took a few steps towards him.   
"Of course I'm serious! Damn, Dubravko… – when will you understand that we can't do this by ourselves?"   
She added the last in a bit more tender voice, but he didn't hear it.   
"We don't need her here! There are enough doctors at that hospital as it is," he added in annoyed voice.   
"Then why don't they know what the problem is?" she replied angrily. "What are you going to do, to let him die before getting help?!"   
"He is not dying!" Dubravko burst out. He tried to laugh, but the laughter got stuck somewhere in his throat.   
"Then why has he been unconscious for two days?"   
"It's not two days yet!"   
"Dubravko! You know as well as I do that he hasn't said two words since he fell asleep on Wednesday, and it's not good!"   
"Well, he obviously needs the sleep…" Dubravko began, but Natalia shook her head.   
"Did she tell you this is normal? Because if she did, then I will call her and say that it's everything but right and normal!"   
"No, she didn't," he sighed. "And don't get so…-"   
He didn't have the time to finish "worked up" before Natalia interrupted him.   
"You didn't tell her, did you?"   
He sighed again.   
"I didn't see why I should have," he then said.   
She rolled her eyes angrily.  
"No, of course you didn't! Your brother is dying, and you don't see why you should tell a doctor about it…!"   
"Jesus, what difference would it make?" he asked, realizing that this was turning into the argument of the day. Or the argument of the week, actually. It wasn't the first time Natalia said that Susan should come to Croatia. She had picked up the topic as soon as she had heard the woman's name, but he had managed to convince her every time that it wasn't necessary. Until now. She had that look in her eyes, the look that told him that the only way he'd get out of this was to either let her have her way, hit her or leave the house, and since he was not one to give up or a coward that beat up his wife instead of bantering with her, he knew that he would have to leave.   
He walked to the door, opened it and stepped out.   
"Damned Dubravko, don't you walk away like that!" she yelled, following him as far as her indoor sandals would let her, which wasn't that far.   
  
The door slammed shut, and she stared angrily at it. How could he be so stupid?   
She looked at the door, and heard him try to start the car. Once, twice, and then the engine died. She knew exactly how he was swearing out there right now, and with any luck the car troubles would make him calm down enough before getting to the hospital where he would take Tito's place at Luka's bedside.   
The car started, and he drove away, leaving her standing there, still staring at the door.  
She thought for two seconds, then she walked back to the phone and picked it up, pressed the button that dialed back to the last used number and said a silent prayer that it would be the receiver who would have to pay for the call.   
  
**Chicago   
  
**Susan was standing on the middle of the living room with the white phone in her hand. She smiled, but she still didn't know what she felt. It had been such a short call, she had spent most of the time being scared to death of what Dubravko would say, and when he hung up she still had a thousand of questions to ask.   
  
But Luka was doing fine. At least that was good. A bit unexpected, considering his condition when he left County, but… Maybe home surroundings had more of a medical effect than she had thought.   
  
She sat down next to her window, and looked out on the wintry day while leaning her chin against the phone in her hands.   
There was just something that bugged her… Something, something that didn't add up.   
  
Maybe she was just being overdramatic. Luka was fine, everything was fine. Maybe she had wanted to be his saviour, maybe that was all there had been. Maybe she had tried to fix what she hadn't been able to fix in Div, maybe she had seen something of Chloe in him when it was at its worst. Maybe that was all it was.   
  
If it was, then she was alone again.   
  
Her melancholic thoughts were interrupted by the phone under her chin ringing, almost giving her a heart attack. As if rudely awoken, she picked it up.   
"Hello?" she said, not sure who she expected it to be. Her mother? Hardly. Carter or Weaver? More likely. Abby or Jing-Mei? Possibly.   
"Susan Lewis…?" she heard the woman in the other end say, pronouncing the name carefully as if she didn't want to forget any letters, but still her heavy Eastern European accent shone through.   
"Yes," Susan said, standing up as if she would hear better that way.   
A short pause, and then the dark, slightly husky but still somehow very clear voice was back.   
"My name is Natalia Kovac, Dr. Lewis. You just spoke to my husband, and I think I will have to correct what he told you."   
The woman's name was familiar. Luka had told her about a Natalia, Dubravko's wife with whom he was always fighting. The Hollywood-worthy marriage and the kids, how many she wasn't sure of. Three, or was it four? Well, that probably didn't matter right now.   
And what did she mean by 'having to correct' what Dubravko had said? Had he misunderstood something, but how could he have, he was there, wasn't he? Had he been lying to her, but why would he have? And why was Natalia so horribly straight forward?!   
"What do you mean…?" Susan asked carefully, almost not wanting an answer. The more she thought of it, the more she realized that this was serious, important, not a joke. Luka's family was poor, they would never waste a phone call to America on something that wasn't necessary.   
"Dubravko didn't tell you the whole truth, Dr Lewis," Natalia said, still unbelievably calm.  
"Call me Susan, please," she said, feeling a lot more nervous that two seconds ago.   
"What didn't he tell me?" she continued, biting her lip.  
"Luka is not doing all that well, Susan," Natalia said.   
Susan pressed her teeth tighter against her lip and closed her eyes before continuing.   
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling a bit.   
"He hasn't woken up for more than a few minutes in two days. They don't know what's wrong."   
Susan sat down at the first place she could find, which happened to be her kitchen table.   
"Is he…- Is he at the hospital?" she finally managed to get out.  
"Yes. He collapsed two and a half days ago here at home. He just lost consciousness and suddenly barely breathed…-"   
"Had he taken anything?" Susan interrupted, dragging her hand through her hair. "Valium, Vicodin, anything?"   
"I don't know… But he hasn't been able to keep anything down, not even to drink anything.  
Susan sighed and leaned her forehead against the palm of her hand.   
"God, we should have never let him leave…" she thought out aloud.   
"No," Natalia said calmly. "I don't think you should have."   
"God," Susan said again. "Do you know what they have given him, anything… What have they said…?" she then asked, knowing it probably was hopeless. If Natalia had heard anything at all then she probably wouldn't remember it, and if she would have, then it'd still be in Croatian. And not of any help to her.  
"I think… I think he's taking Valium again," Natalia said, for the first time with uncertainty in her voice.   
"He stopped taking them?!"   
  
"I think… I'm not sure… Maybe."   
"Oh Jesus," Susan groaned, getting up from the table.   
"What is it?" Natalia asked, sounding both worried and frightened.   
"Natalia," Susan said, trying to sound calm – "make sure he takes every damn pill until I get there."   
"Are you coming here?" Natalia asked, not sounding as surprised as Susan had been when she had heard her own words, but as if it had been the most normal thing in the world.   
  
She let them sink in for a few moments, then she replied.   
"Yes, I'm coming. Tell him I'm coming."


	12. To the future through the past

**Author's comments: **I'm not even gonna start apologizing this time. I suck at updating. You know it,  
I know it - and I'm working on it :)  
This chapter has pushed TPOL over the 100-pages border - 115, if I remember correctly. BIG THANKS to all who  
have read and reviewed - I would never have continued this far without you, and I hope you still put up with  
my sucky updating!!

**THE PROJECTS OF LIFE : PART TWO **

**CHAPTER ELEVEN : TO THE FUTURE THROUGH THE PAST**

Tuesday night, Zagreb, Croatia 

The bus station was peaceful and quiet – just as peaceful as the airport had been hours before. She had thought that the arrivals hall would be the only quiet place in town, but judging from the fact that the birds and a car rolling by every now and then were the only sounds to be heard, then Zagreb had to be a very quiet city on Tuesday nights. 

Susan looked around her once more, half expecting to see a English translation of the timetable on the wall appear out of nowhere. But it didn't, and she sighed as she sat down at the bench, for the fiftieth time picking up the little pocket version of the timetable she had gotten from the airport. It was part of the little baggage she had – a handbag, a little suitcase and a bag from a grocery store just around the corner from her apartment. In the plastic bag she had been holding on to like a treasure, Kerry had put down a few personal things Luka and Dubravko, in their rush to leave Chicago, had left behind - an old ID card, a scarf and a pair of black gloves. The scarf still smelled of his cologne, and it had been her pillow during the long flight over the ocean. If it wasn't for the hard chair she sat on now, she'd still be asleep. 

The Croatian timetable was almost moving in front of her tired eyes. Numbers and cities; page up and page down. She recognized some of the places and names – Osijek, Vukouvar, Dubrovnik. Famous places, big news headlines only a decade ago. She saw the name of Luka's village as well. Or, the one she thought was Luka's village. God help Ritchie if it wasn't right – it was his memory, and he had admitted that it wasn't of much use most of the time. It had taken him three hours, five cups of coffee and two Europe maps to recall the name of the tiny place, and still he had delivered it to her with the words "…and I don't think it's right anyway." But the name was there in the table, right next to Vukouvar 18.46, so at least the place existed. But she didn't know at which page to look for the next bus. She didn't know if it was Dolazak or Odlazak that meant "departure". 

You were really handicapped when the only thing you could tell people around you was that you loved them. She sighed once again, put away the little book and closed her eyes to instead try to remember what American timetables looked like – did arrivals or departures come first? There had to be some sort of multi-national system, right? But the more she tried to recall all the bus stations she had been at, the more confused she became. It was just like back in high school when you were sure you knew the answer to a question, and just before writing it down you started doubting it . Soon you'd leave the field blank, not daring to write any of your ideas because they'd still be wrong and you had managed to screw your head up enough to start doubting your own name.   
  
Why hadn't she made sure she knew something of the language before getting on that plane? It hadn't even occurred to her, in the state she had been in, that she would need some sort of translation device when she finally landed in that hidden corner of Europe. Nothing on the signs and posters on the wall made any sense to her, it could just as well have been written in Hieroglyphs. In the beginning it had been rather fascinating, to be honest – it was so very different from Chicago, where you were forced to read and comprehend everything you saw. Here you could lock it out, just choose not to listen and read and then be left alone with your thoughts as if you were sitting behind a thin glass wall. That imaginary wall of unknown words had been a blessing. Because God knew she needed to think.  
Surprisingly, a plane thousands of feet up in the air had been the right place to do the thinking. No one had disturbed her, no phone, no Romano, no Ritchie and no neighbour's really loud cat meowing at three am. She had for once been able to sort things out, lay the cards out on the table and try and put them back together again in a better order. And so she had done it. 

She had thought, drunk coffee, stared out into the black night, watched a bad cartoon, drunk some more coffee, and thought again until her head hurt from both the thinking and a serious overdose of caffeine and she had fallen asleep. Somewhere over Spain or north Italy, she had come to a decision.   
She would help Luka get better, be his friend, right hand and left too if he needed it, be his eyes and ears but not his lover, no matter how just the softness and wonderful smell of his scarf made her want otherwise. She wouldn't throw her feelings at him, wouldn't put even more weight on his shoulders by making him choose what to feel. If she still knew for sure what she felt once he had become himself again – then she could start pondering about whether or not to tell him. Maybe it was sweeping things under the rug, but that wasn't important. Luka's well-being and recovery was, her love-life was not. 

The glass door between the waiting area she was sitting in and the main entrance to the station that actually was rather big, opened and pulled her away from her thoughts that once again were carrying her away. A young woman with a baby carriage tried to open the door and keep track of her handbag that wanted to slip down from her shoulder at the same time, and just before the probably pretty heavy door threw her head over heels over the carriage, a young man with a sports bag thrown over his shoulder opened up the door behind her and kept her on her feet. She smiled thankfully at him and gathered her belongings, including the baby, which was now crying, and rushed to sit down two rows behind Susan, all along reassuring her child that which, judging from its clothes, was a little girl. The young man followed her in and went straight up to the seat three steps to the right from Susan, and sat down while pulling out a thick book from his bag. He balanced the book on his left knee while searching for something else in the bag, but judging from the sighs and mutters he let out under his breath, he didn't find it. As he picked up the book again she caught a glimpse of its cover, and even though she didn't understand a word of what stood on the title, she saw the writers' names and recognized them. It was a medical textbook, one of the earlier courses. She smiled at how caught up in it he was – his black hair was falling over his eyes as he leaned closer over the book, but he didn't even notice it. 

Suddenly there was a rasping sound in the loudspeaker system, and a male voice streamed out over the room. Fast he delivered his message in Croatian, but not in English. No matter how hard she prayed, the last sentence was said in his native tongue, the loudspeakers clicked and the voice disappeared.   
She let out a groan and got back up on her tired feet. She would have to find something, someone, who could translate for her and, preferably, would remain as her shadow until she reached her destination. Maybe she should have brought Ritchie with her anyway – at least he knew the surroundings somewhat. 

The waiting room was nearly empty, just the young med student, the mother and her baby and herself. Not a single employee was to be found, not that she knew for sure where to look anyway.   
She must have been even more distraught than she felt, because she didn't even notice that the door once again was opened, this time by a man in a uniform and a gun hanging from his side. The guard walked into the room and when he was standing somewhat in the middle, he cleared his throat and said a few words in a very military, short cut manner. Susan jumped at the sound of his voice, almost expecting him to shoot her before she saw the sign on his nametag. Securitas' employees didn't shoot people.

The med student next to her finally looked up from his book, and asked something of to the guard. She was only half listening, trying to compose what she would ask the man when she had the chance to, when she heard the young man mention the name of Luka's village. She immediately forgot her own question and stared at the men as if she only now had noticed them treading the surface of the earth. Was he on his way to the village? Could he help her – chances that he spoke English were pretty good, considering that he apparently went to university. 

The guard turned around and went back to the door, letting it slam behind him as he left. Susan bit her lip and studied the youngster next to her for a few moments before finally walking up to him.   
"Excuse me…." She began, not getting his attention. She was just going to ask again and louder when he suddenly looked up, almost seeming surprised to find her standing in front of him.   
"Yes?" he asked in broken English.   
"I'm sorry, but are you on your way to…"   
She stopped when she came to the name of the village – her pronunciation would probably only confuse him more. Quickly she grabbed her timetable from her purse and pointed at the name of the village, this time next to Karlovac 21.43.   
"… this place?"   
He looked where she pointed, and then smiled at her.   
"Yes," he said again.   
She sighed with relief. Not only was he on his way to the same place – he understood her too, even though she didn't know if his own vocabulary stretched beyond "yes" and "no".   
"Then can you tell me when the next bus leaves?"   
His smile got wider, and he nodded at the timetable in her hand.   
"At 21.50, apparently", he said, this time in a lot clearer voice.   
She let out a tired laugh at herself, and reached out her right hand.   
"Thank you," she smiled. "My name is Susan Lewis."  
The young man shook her hand.  
"I'm Alex, Alex Kovac." 

She gasped as she heard his name.   
"Is... Are you...?" she began, making him frown. As he did that his face seemed awfully familiar.   
"Sorry?" he asked, looking thoroughly at her.   
"Is your last name common?" she asked, making him even more confused.   
"Somewhat…" he began, staring at her as if she was from out of space.   
"Why?" he then asked her.   
She bit her lip and rushed back to her seat, grabbed the bag that held the things Luka had left behind and pulled out the ID-card. 

Feeling her hand shake, she held up the card in front of him.   
"Do you know this man?"   
He looked sceptically at her again, apparently wondering what to think about this woman who apparently was both lost and half crazy, but he still took the card from her and looked at it.   
Fast a smile spread over his face.   
"Yes," he said simply, still looking at the card.   
"Yes?" she asked, almost laughing from relief and tiredness. Could it be true that she had such luck...?   
"Yes," Alex said again.  
"He's my uncle." 

***  
**Earlier the same day**   
  
The despised sun was teasing his eyelids again. Burning, stinging, itching and torturing him until he had to slowly open his eyes, facing the world for the first time in days. Even more slowly he turned his head towards the window.  
"Please close the curtains," he said out to the room, not even knowing if anyone was there to hear him. If they could hear him – his voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.   
"Good morning to you too," came the immediate response from the other side of the room. 

He turned around, surprised to hear sounds from that direction.  
"Is it morning…?" he asked tiredly, blinking away the sleep to clear up his vision.  
"Yes, five hours ago, by my counting, probably just two by yours. But you wouldn't know, would you?"  
The voice was hard, lacking all compassion. But he wasn't surprised to hear it – he would probably have fallen out of bed if the voice had sounded any different. 

Finally the light stopped harassing his sight, and he looked right at Dragan. 

His brother was sitting next to the bed, his right leg put over the left which was stretched out, just as stiff as usual. The crutch leaned on the nightstand.   
"Hi…" Luka said, still whispering against his will and continuing with his standard question to all appearing family members.  
"When did you get here…?"  
"Two hours ago. Had to let Tata sleep for a while, he's been sitting here too much. You know how weak is heart is." 

There was no real blame in the way he said it. It might have sounded like it, but it wasn't. There was just the hard bitterness in Dragan's voice, combined with his hard attitude, but Luka still sighed. He hadn't changed. In a way it was refreshing to realize that something still was the same, but no one would have missed the old attitude if Dragan lightened up a little.   
But, probably he wasn't the best one to talk right now. 

The sun made a new move on his eyes, and he groaned.   
"Could you _please _do something about those damn curtains?" he snapped, just to realize that he sounded exactly like Dragan used to when he was in the mood.   
He half expected his oldest brother to bark back, but Dragan just let out something that probably was to be considered as a laugh.   
"That doesn't sound like you," he said, almost amused.   
"Get used to it," Luka muttered, and Dragan laughed again so that the small golden crucifix he wore around his neck jumped.   
The rays of the sun through the newly washed window started to bother him too, and slowly he got up, his determination as usually strong as the sun. 

Luka felt his conscience sting for making him get up as he watched Dragan straightening out his legs and putting them against the floor as he reached for the crutch. With a deep sigh that revealed how painful the movement was for him he leaned on what had been his support for more than ten years, and stood still for a moment.   
"Have been sitting for too long," he sighed, closing his eyes as he gathered the strength he needed to take the steps up to the window.   
Luka just shook his head.   
"You shouldn't walk at all," he said, actually surprised at how much like himself he sounded.  
"Shut up!" Dragan snorted, shooting him an angry look.  
As if the fury had given him the strength he needed, he started to move. Slowly, one step at a time, he reached the window. Luka bit his lip, knowing he should have kept quiet. 

The sun was finally locked out, and he let out a sigh of relief as the headache calmed down a little. He closed his eyes for a minute, taking deep breaths until the distinct hospital smell started to bother him enough again.   
As he looked up again he saw that Dragan still was standing at the same spot next to the window, heavily leaning on the crutch. He still looked infuriated by the walking comment, and Luka realized that the reason he still was still standing probably was that he wanted to prove he could.   
Trying to ease up the spirits in the room a little, he slowly turned to Dragan, thinking that they both moved as if they were 80 years old. Their father was more vital.   
"How are things?" he asked tiredly.   
"As before," Dragan said, staring out of the window.   
"Mira...?"   
"Is where she always has been," came the rapid reply. "There, with him."   
Luka sighed. So neither Belgrade nor Stijepan had names yet.   
"What about Alex?"   
Dragan turned away from the window and leaned against the windowsill, letting go of the crutch.   
"Fine. Too much like you."   
Luka let out a dry laugh.   
"What's that supposed to mean?"   
Dragan's voice hardened as he continued.   
"Reads too much, is locked inside of himself. Wants to be a doctor."   
"That's not too bad," Luka smiled. "I was worried that he might be on Valium," he added, trying to joke.   
"He shouldn't dream," Dragan said harshly.   
"It doesn't have to be dreams," Luka tried, already guessing what the problem was.   
"We all know it's not going to happen." 

Before Luka had the time to protest, his brother said what he all along had suspected would come.   
"We saw how it went with you." 

*** 

She stared at him.   
"Your uncle...?"   
"Yes," he said before looking up at her.   
"Why do you ask?" he asked her for the second time.   
She bit her lip. Did he know?   
"I'm a... friend of your uncle...." she began, not knowing how to continue. If he didn't know then she probably shouldn't be the one to tell him, especially if Luka's condition was very bad – but, on the other hand keeping it from him was even worse.   
"You're going to visit him at the hospital?" Alex asked, apparently calm as he solved her dilemma.   
Susan nodded, opening her mouth to say something, even though she suspected that the world could do without it.   
"Are you from Chicago?" Alex interrupted her, seeming more interested by every minute.   
"Yes," Susan answered.   
"You are a doctor too?"   
She nodded.   
"Yes – we work together."   
"Emergency medicine, right?"   
He leaned forward, as if he suddenly didn't want to miss a single thing she said.   
She nodded again, smiling at his interest.   
"I knew it – my grandmother keeps telling me that he is a pediatrician, but I always knew he wasn't."   
Susan smiled.   
"He told me that he had wanted to be one."   
Alex nodded heavily.   
"I know. But he changed speciality when he did his internship."   
"You seem to know him well," she smiled, getting the feeling that Luka wasn't just an uncle for Alex, but also a role model.   
"I have read all his papers," Alex replied honestly.   
Susan chuckled.   
"I see that you're walking in his footsteps," she said, nodding at the book.   
Alex got a gloomy shadow over his face and looked down on his hands.   
"Let's hope so," he said.   
She frowned.   
"I thought you were in med school," she said, damning herself for sounding so surprised.   
"No," he said, sounding pretty depressed, holding up the book. "This is Luka's - my father won't let me go to the university," he added, looking up at her.   
"I see," she said, looking down. Suddenly flashbacks from a green 80's kitchen in a gloomy Chicago suburb and her father's lecturing voice filled her head. She knew exactly what Alex meant.   
"You know," she began in a cheery voice – "I had the same problem with my father. I got him to change his mind, I'm sure you'll too."   
"Hardly," Alex smiled sadly.   
"You could always try and get a teacher to talk to him, you know," she said, remembering how she herself had attacked all science teachers verbally until the tiny Mr. Blackstock finally had given in and dialled her father's number.   
Alex just shook his head.   
"Tried that while I still was in school."   
Susan raised an eyebrow.   
"You're not in school anymore?"   
"No – I graduated last spring, but I can't afford university. Tried to find a job, but couldn't. So now I'm just living on hope," he concluded with a sigh.   
"I see," she nodded, remembering what Luka had said about the little village and how he just accidentally slipped into medicine. Or how his father-in-law problems made him, more likely. Considering all Alex's problems to date, she assumed that it wasn't very likely that he'd ever get his wish. 

Before she could continue to cheer him up, the guard came back inside the room. Once again he said a few words, more or less spitting them out, even faster than the last time.   
Alex smiled as he heard what the man said.   
"You're in luck, Susan," he said, smiling widely as if all his problems were gone.   
"I am?" she asked, feeling rather stupid.   
He nodded as the guard slammed the door behind him.   
"The road is opened - your bus is leaving on time. Our bus," he hurried to correct himself. "I would have taken the next one, but I think you might need a translator," he said, blinking at her.  
"More than anything," she laughed, at first not even hearing his translation of the guard's smattering voice. As she heard it play over again in her head she frowned. The road was opened – as in "it had been closed"…? Why? The fear of landmines ran through her head, but she shook it off her. The war had ended a long time ago. 

"The road was closed?" she asked as he started to pack his things after checking his arm watch.   
He nodded.   
"There was a big accident on the highway," he explained.   
"Why everything is so quiet. Big storm last night."   
She almost blushed at her prejudice against the conditions in the country.   
"I thought it always was like this," she said as she picked up her handbag and dropped it, making him laugh both at her clumsiness and what she had been thinking.   
""No," he chuckled, "I almost thought I had landed in Ghost City when I was at the airport," he added, picking up her lipstick and half broken mirror from the floor. She looked at the scratch across the mirror, feeling an unpleasant superstition rise.  
"You were at the airport?" she then asked, surprised that they probably had been in the same halls all day without noticing it.   
"Yes," he nodded as they headed for the door, "I came from my mother's," he said, his voice sounding as if he had no problems sharing his family issues with someone he had met just half an hour ago.   
"Are your parents divorced?" she asked, trying not to sound too surprised. Luka had given her the impression that his family was rather religious – that there'd be divorcees had never crossed her mind.   
"No – or, yeah. But not legally. My father refuses to sign the papers - I think he's had them for about seven years or so."   
"I see," she said as they stepped outside. The traffic was already ten times busier than minutes before, but the fresh air still filled her lungs. This wasn't anything like Chicago or any other American city she had been in – here peace and quiet seemed to rule, despite everything that had happened, maybe at this very spot she was standing on. The thought of the war kept following her around everywhere she went or looked, even though there weren't any traces of it. A monument over the dead that was advertised at the back of her timetable was the only visible thing she had seen. At first she had wondered if Danijela and the children's names was on it, but then she had realized that it probably just were soldiers. 

Alex threw his bag and lay down hers a bit more gently inside the bus that to Susan's amusement looked very much like the bus she used to ride to school with.   
There were a few people inside already, an old lady at the first seat, a younger woman three rows behind her and an old man sleeping in the last seat. Alex exchanged a few words with the younger woman after kissing her cheeks.   
"Your girlfriend?" Susan asked with a smile as they sat down on the other side of the aisle.   
"Nah…" he said with a smile that revealed that he maybe wanted otherwise. 

The bus started moving, and she tiredly leaned against the window, immediately missing the softness and smell of Luka's scarf –her pillow- against her cheek. She tried to imagine it instead, but the knowledge that it was out of reach just made it creep inside just gave her the creeps. Alex had thrown the plastic bag inside the trunk together with the rest of their baggage, and even though it made her feel like a little kid, she didn't want to sleep without it right now. So she turned to Alex again.   
"Does your mother live far away?" she asked, leaning on the other side of the seat so she faced him.   
"Belgrade," he said simply.   
"That's Serbia, right…?" she asked, trying to revive her knowledge of the Balkans. Or, renew it, more likely – the maps had changed since her geography classes.   
He nodded.   
"Yes. The capital. Old city, beautiful. She lives there with her boyfriend, he's from there."   
"So he's Serbian then?"   
"Definitely," Alex said with a smile.   
"Just don't mention it to my father."   
Susan frowned.   
"He doesn't know?"   
Alex smiled again.   
"He knows. A bit too well."   
"Right…" she said.   
"Sounds hard," she said, trying not to sound as if she pitied him. If she knew anything about the Kovac men, then it was that they hated pity.  
"Well, one gets used to it," he said calmly. As he uttered the words she smiled, fascinated. It was almost crazy how alike they were. The hair, even though Alex' was a bit longer, the height, although Luka was a bit taller. The calmness and how he seemed to be rather precocious all made him look like she had imagined Luka would have been at that age. She smiled at the thought, once again wishing she had met him while he was still happy, had gotten to know his soul minus the depression and addiction. As she let her thoughts wander, she suddenly realized that at the time Luka had been Alex' age, he had been a father. He had been married as well. 

Once again Danijela's shadow fell over her. She was ashamed of how she thought about her as a rival, but she couldn't help it – the minute she managed to push the thought away something new immediately made it come back twice as strong. If Luka had been happy back then, it had been because of Danijela and the kids – and his happiness had died with them. No one had seen him genuinely happy since then, and probably he himself had forgotten what it felt like to be at peace with himself.   
She suddenly remembered what Dubravko had said at County – it was just a few days ago, nearly a week, but still it felt like a small eternity. He had said that Danijela always was on Luka's mind, and that she had been ever since they met as teenagers. How could he ever forget her – his first love, his wife and mother of his children? There was no way he could, and she didn't want him to either, but… There was always a "but", and this time it was a rather big one. 

Could they ever have a future together – were they too different, or was it true that opposites attract and fulfil each other? His darkness both fascinated and troubled her – would he ever get over Danijela, and if he would, how long would it take? Would she forever have to live in the shadow of his dead wife, or would she feel obligated to fill her place? She had always been drawn to shattered, hurting people and especially that kind of men – the memory of Div was still alive inside her despite all the time that had passed, and being able to help people was also one of the reasons she had chosen to become a doctor and not a secretary as her mother had suggested, as much a cliché as it ever was. But could she really help Luka enough? She wanted to, but could she? Was she only fascinated and intrigued by his tragic life and past, was she thinking of him as the man who lost his family - exactly like he didn't want to be thought about? Were her feelings for him real, or were they just a product of an over-active imagination and a loneliness that ached more and more each day?   
  
So many questions, and no answers. She was driving herself crazy thinking like this, only coming up with new questions every minute but never answering the old ones. It had been so easy while Luka still was in Chicago – she'd be sitting at his bedside, they'd be talking and laughing like they had been that day before he and Dubravko left. It had been easy to help him then, easy to be there – and, it had been a whole lot easier to explain why she cared then. He had been a colleague locked up in a hospital room more or less against his will even though he had put him there himself, and she was just a fellow doctor – of course she'd visit him, of course she'd be there in the nights when he was in pain and barely could move, even less talk. Of course she'd take care of him then - if the rumour mill down in the ER almost collapsed of all the material her actions gave it, then so be it. But now, when Luka was back and supposedly safe with his family – now things were getting complicated. Did he even want her here? That Dubravko didn't she knew for sure, and she didn't exactly expect him to greet her with open arms. But what if Luka didn't want her with him? He had always been proud, that she knew way too well – it wasn't impossible in any way that he never would want her around to see him like this, even though the sight was not exactly new to her. 

Did he need her, or did she just need him?   
A streetlight flashed over her face and woke her up from her thoughts. As soon as she realized what she had been thinking about, she got furious with herself. 

Hadn't she just hours earlier made a highflying promise not to get her poor, caffeine overdosed brain into these things? She solved nothing by torturing herself like this – if she wasn't wanted here, then she could just as well go back tonight. It was that easy – the visa she had managed to get her hands on three hours before leaving Chicago was not a long term one; she would have to renew it if she were to stay longer. Not that the thought of going back to County with Kerry and Romano was very thrilling – neither had been very glad about her one day notice – she had a feeling that she was on top of Romano's hate list right now. Kerry had tried to be a bit more gentle, but not very successful at it. Thank God for the knife assault that came rolling in only minutes after her having asked, or rather, pleaded for a "vacation". The last she had heard of her boss on her way through the doors had been something about the moral responsibilities about being a doctor, and her own muttering reply about the moral responsibilities towards suicidal friends. 

The bus left the flashing light of the lamp behind, and she slapped herself on her cheek, trying to beat the thoughts out of her. Alex gave her a surprised look, both thick eyebrows raised.   
"You OK?" he asked, looking as if he thought he knew the answer.   
Almost surprised that he had noticed her self punishment she turned to him.   
"Sure," she said lightly "Just trying not to think too much."   
"OK…." He said, sounding as if he didn't fully believed her. 

Trying to get his attention away from her attempts to slap herself, she decided to bring up what she had just been thinking about. Parts of it.   
"You're a lot like Luka, you know," she said with a wide smile.   
"Really?" he asked, almost seeming surprised.   
"Don't you think so?" she asked, still smiling.   
"I wouldn't know," he said – "I have barely met him."   
"Really?" she asked in her turn, before remembering what Luka had said about not knowing his nieces and nephews all that well – that most of them were born after he left for Rome and then Chicago.   
"Yeah," he nodded, "I was just six when he left – I have some memories, but not many."   
"And still you're interested in him enough to go through his papers?" she asked jokingly.   
He laughed.   
"Everybody in my village is interested in Luka," Alex said with a smile.   
"Really?" Susan said, looking out of the window just in time to get her eyes on a sign that warned for landmines in the field they drove past. So they were still there.   
"Yeah," he replied – "it's not every day someone of us moves to your country…"   
"I guess," she said with a slight chuckle, amused by how America seemed to be ideal place for Alex. Her suspicions were proved right in only seconds.   
"Must be great over there…." He said with a slight dreamy look on his face, looking out through the bus window too.   
"Sometimes," she said slowly, pictures of the slums and gang fights popping up in her head.   
"At least it's better than where I come from," he said, still seeming dreamy.   
"Thinking of emigrating?" she asked with a smile as the bus drove over a bump in the road. The picture of the skull and the crossed ribs on the road sign came back to her for a second, and as soon as the picture started to fade she felt guilty again. Why did she keep expecting to get hit, blown up or murdered? The little she had seen of Croatia this far was a beautiful, calm country, nothing like the war zone that had filled her TV screen in her years as a resident.   
Alex shook his head at her question.   
"I don't think my father would allow that."   
Susan frowned. She wasn't getting a good picture of Alex' father, that was for sure.   
"Why not? I'm sure he'd want you to do whatever makes you happy…"  
"As long as I find that happiness within 200 metres of him, sure. He's not…-"   
Alex bit his lip slightly.   
"… - not very fond of Americans," he said, sounding ashamed.   
Susan just nodded that she understood, but on the inside she sighed.   
She could definitely not expect a warm welcome. 

*** 

The bus slowed in and stopped on a little square. The driver yelled something, followed by the sound of the doors opening. A wave of fresh, night air hit her sleepy face and woke her up from where she had fallen asleep against the window about an hour earlier. The trip had been slow, slower than usual because of the storm the day before, and as it got darker there wasn't very much to look at outside anymore. Alex seemed to have sunk into his own thoughts after revealing his father's attitude towards Americans, not seeming to hear her assure him that she didn't care. 

Alex looked at her as the old lady, the schoolbook example of a Balkan woman with a headscarf covering her grey hair that probably was combed into a bun in her neck, got up and left the bus. She seemed very tiny as she stepped out, but still there was something very sweet about her – as if she wanted to say that time can change, borders can change and roads can be built, but I'll remain the same until my last day.   
"You awake?" he asked with a smile.   
She smiled back and stretched out her leg as much as the space between the seats would let her.   
"Somewhat."   
"Let's go," he said, getting up and pulling down his coat from the shelf above them. She nodded and reached for her handbag that apparently liked lying on Croatian floors. 

They left the bus, him letting her jump down on the square first. She stood still and looked around her as he went to locate his bag and her suitcase.   
A silent bird flew over the square, landing on the top of the golden cross on the church roof. The cross shone brightly despite the dark December night, and suddenly she heard the church bells strike midnight. The sound they made was deep, soulful, and to make the picture even more perfect she saw three snowflakes leave a cloud above and slowly sail down. There wasn't a lot of snow, had probably not been either – just a little pile next to the church, filled with children's footprints and a few left toys next to it.   
Alex came up behind her, one bag in each hand.   
"We will have to walk, I'm afraid…" he said, still sounding as if he was apologizing.   
"That's OK," she smiled, actually happy to be out in the fresh air for a while.   
He returned the smile and nodded backwards.   
"Come." 

After a short walk through the little village, a building with a red cross and big, just as red, letters on the roof spelling out "Bolnica" appeared in front of them, and Alex stopped in front of a board full of words that probably were names of departments.   
"Emergency?" he asked her doubtfully after a while.   
"I think so," she nodded, watching an ambulance pull up in the ambulance bay. Its sirens were off, the driver was probably on his way to park it for the night, but still the sight of the white and red vehicle made her switch to doctor mode.   
"Well, there's not exactly any danger that we'll get lost," Alex said with a smile as they walked up to the doors. He pushed the right one open, and they stepped inside the little hospital that still smelled exactly like County.   
  
Another red sign, this time above a glass cage that looked very much like triage at home, spelling out "Informacije", a word that Susan easily understood. Alex walked up to the little window and asked the nurse behind the glass wall a few phrases, supposedly to check if emergency was the right place to find Luka. The nurse got up and opened a locked cabinet, out of which she pulled a journal. She took a quick look at it, asked something and then pointed left. Susan, who had been having trouble standing still, set off to the left without knowing what door she was looking for.   
"Well, it might just as well be "Emergencije"," she muttered to herself, running up to the closest door.   
"Hey, wait up," she heard Alex scream, his voice filled with laughter.   
"That's the Pharmacy," he laughed and nodded at the sign she had left unread. Not that "Ljekarna" would have made her any cleverer.   
"This way," he said with a chuckle and took her arm, dragging her to the next door and opening it. 

The little department reminded her of the little hospital in northern Arizona she had worked at the summer when Suzy had been three. Almost empty, peaceful. No traumas that made blood stain the floors all over the hospital, no gang fights that broke up families forever. It had been the best summer of her life.   
She watched a few nurses and even fewer doctors walk around as they crossed the department in hunt for room 203.The closer they got the more nervous she felt, hugging her handbag tightly. What would he say, what would he think? Would he just think that she was in the way?   
As they stepped into the last corridor a door behind them opened and closed.   
"Alex!" she heard a hard voice, and apparently Alex had heard it too, since he stopped and turned around, and she followed his example.   
  
A dark man, probably in his late 40's, stood behind them. He said something in Croatian, his broad arms crossed over his chest. She was surprised to realize that he was of her own height – she had gotten used to all Croatian men being a head taller.   
The man leaned on a crutch, his black moustache moving as he breathed out heavily.   
"Tata…" Alex began; getting a sharp reply that Susan only could imagine the meaning of. So this was Alex' father – Luka's oldest brother, the farmer with the strong opinions.   
"I should have gone home, not come here" Alex translated for her in a whisper.   
Another sharp Croatian sentence was thrown at them, this time sounding as a question. Susan heard Alex mention her name and Chicago, and she assumed that his father had asked who she was. Without awaiting any translation she reached out her hand to the man.   
"Susan Lewis," she said.   
He looked at her with black eyes, his gaze almost scaring her. He studied her thoroughly, frowning, as if surprised at what he saw.   
Finally he took her hand.   
"Dragan Kovac," he said sharply and let go of her almost immediately, as if she had some sort of contagious disease. She shot a look back at him, thinking that Luka and Dubravko must have gotten all the manners.   
Alex nodded at the door his father had stepped out from.   
"Is he in there?" he asked, in English so Susan would understand.   
His father nodded.   
"Yes," he said in very broken English, "– but don't go in there!" he said sharply to Susan as she reached for the door.   
"Why?" she asked, frowning.   
"He is asleep," Dragan said shortly.   
"And I prefer to keep him that way," he added in the same curt way that the guard had spoken in at the bus station. There was something military over his whole appearance she thought – the only thing that didn't fit was the crutch.   
"Me too – I just want to see him," she tried, again heading for the yellow door with 203 written on the left from the handle.  
"Not now," Dragan replied, almost yelling.   
"Is there something wrong?" she asked, suddenly getting an icy feeling. Were they still keeping things from her?   
"No. Nothing else than that he has gotten himself into this mess," Dragan muttered, saying the last in a judgmental voice she didn't like one bit.   
"He needs me," she said sharply, surprised when she heard herself. Dragan raised an eyebrow.   
"Are you Luka's girlfriend or something?" he asked in an even more annoying voice, and she looked straight at him for a second before answering.   
"No, his friend," she said, putting weight on every word.   
"And I want to see him," she added, almost feeling like hitting him and his glaring face.   
If it was her nationality that bugged him, then he was even worse than Frank. 

"Tata..." Alex began, this time sounding both ashamed and annoyed.   
"She will have to wait until the morning," Dragan snapped, putting his left hand on the handle as to show them that the room was a restricted area. Susan saw the golden wedding band, shining on his ring finger.   
"Mr Kovac..." she began in her most doctoring voice, but another voice interrupted her.   
"Susan Lewis..."   
She jumped and turned around, looking right at Dubravko who crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in what she assumed was disbelief. A door closed behind him, and the international symbol on it told her that it was the men's restroom behind it.   
"Dubravko," she said with a recognizing smile he didn't return, wondering who'd turn up next. Dragan seemed to have had the same thought, since he looked at his brother and asked something. Dubravko shrugged his shoulders and said something in return, making Alex roll his eyes. Dubravko shot him a look and said something in an annoyed voice, getting a rapid reply, and Susan thought that it was a miracle that Alex had turned into what he had with these two bringing him up. The discussion got tenser, and she felt rather helpless in the middle of the fighting men.   
A forth voice reached her ears, this time the sharp voice of a woman.   
"Dubravko!" she said, and then Susan recognized her voice.   
Natalia came walking up to them with a child in her arms, and the sight of the sound asleep girl made Susan remember her own lack of sleep the last days.   
"Susan Lewis?" Natalia asked with a wide smile and reached out her hand. Susan nodded and took her hand, happy to meet a smiling face.   
"Welcome," Natalia said, her English almost perfect. 

Despite her clear voice yelling for her husband, neither Dubravko nor Dragan noticed her before she handed over the girl to Alex.   
"Careful, she's asleep," she said, as if it wasn't completely obvious to him.   
"I know," he replied, annoyed. His aunt didn't take any notice of him though; she just turned to Susan again.  
"Do you want to see him?" she asked, but before Susan managed to reply in any way, Dragan stepped in and snapped his sleep theory at her. She rolled her eyes and snapped something back at him, jumping away from Dubravko's calming hand on her back.   
"Stop!" she snapped, making Dragan sigh deeply.   
"Can't the two of you keep your bantering inside your bedroom or somewhere else where the rest of us don't have to listen to it?" he asked in an annoyed voice.   
"Jesus," Dubravko groaned " – just let her in already. What harm can she do?"   
"We don't need her here!" Dragan snapped, letting go of the handle and crossing his arms over his chest again.   
"Maybe not, but it's not like she's going to make things worse… A little female compassion," he added with an eyebrow raised, nodding at Susan who stood there in the middle, completely clueless.   
"Won't kill him."   
Dragan snorted and nodded at Natalia.   
"Well, he won't get that from that wife of yours, that's for sure."   
Dubravko crossed his arms as well.   
"Don't start," he said sharply. Dragan raised an eyebrow and they looked like they were going to hit it off. Susan raised her arms and tried to make herself heard in between them, but before she had the time to make them stop their arguing, she felt a hand on her arm.   
  
"Go!" Natalia whispered, patting her arm and pointing at the door.   
"They won't notice it," she added, almost giggling. Susan had to bit her lip not to laugh, and carefully she grabbed the door handle. Without either Dragan or Dubravko noticing it she slipped through the door and fast closed it behind her, not even realizing that the whole room was dark. 

She had left her suitcase in the hall, but still tightly held onto her handbag. Running through the rather big room she let it slip, and as she reached the bed next to the window, the bag fell on the floor for what had to be the fiftieth time that day.   
"Luka…" she whispered, and took his hand. 

He was asleep, and had been for the past hours. A deep, dreamless sleep, letting his tired and aching head rest. He hadn't noticed Dragan getting up and leaving the room, despite the fact he almost had fallen, trying to get up without the crutch, hadn't heard the nurses and doctors walking in and out. Not even the loud argument on the other side of the door had reached him – but now something suddenly did. Maybe he had slept long enough, or maybe the gentle touch on his left hand was strong enough to drag him out of the land of sleep.  
Slowly he opened his tired eyes, looking and feeling very groggy. 

"Hi…" he heard a soft voice, and felt a touch on his forehead, just as soft. A scent of a flowery perfume reached him, a perfume he only knew one woman who wore. He blinked his eyes, trying to de-blur the picture of her in front of him. When he finally got his sight somewhat cleared up, he became positive on the assumption that he still was asleep. This was just another dream. Better than all the others, but still a dream. 

"Susan…?" He whispered, just to make sure.  
She nodded.   
"You need to sleep," she whispered, still caressing his forehead. The moon shone in through the window and the silver light fell over her, making her blonde hair shine and her green eyes sparkle like the stars on the deep blue sky.   
"I have slept…" he murmured, licking his desert-dry lips to be able to talk.   
"I know…" she whispered "… - continue with it."   
"It's too tiring," he said slowly, making her chuckle.   
"I thought it was tiring to be awake."   
"You tired?" he asked, his eyes closed as he tried to switch to a position in which he could see her better.  
"Yeah," she smiled, trying to hide a yawn.   
"Then you should sleep," he said, blinking at her.   
"In a while… This chair isn't exactly great for sleeping."   
"There's room here…" he said, nodding at his bed.   
She chuckled again.   
"Don't you think it'd be a little too crowded?" she asked with a smile.   
He shrugged as well as he could and raised an eyebrow.   
"Doesn't hurt to try…"   
She laughed.   
"Are you flirting with me now?"   
He chuckled, and took her hand.  
"Come," he said, his voice weak but still too strong to resist.   
She looked at him for a moment, his dark eyes more inviting than she could ever have dreamt of. His hair was a bit messy from all its contact with pillows, he was a little pale and unshaven, but otherwise he didn't seem too bad.   
Finally she sighed, and gave in. She got up from the chair and took off her winter coat as he made room for her next to him. The movement had exhausted him, but he still smiled at her when she climbed down next to him.  
"This is not a good idea," she smiled, half lying down on her stomach so she could face him. Sure she could have if she had lain down on her back too, but somehow it felt less weird to be in the same bed if she tried to joke about it. He just smiled and patted with his hand on the free part of the bed.   
"More comfortable if you lay down…" he said with a smile.   
She gave him a cunning look where she lay, rested on her elbows.   
"Always the smooth talker…" she said, almost purring.   
He chuckled, almost feeling normal again. Young, for the first time in years.   
"When did you get here?" he asked, his voice hoarse but stronger than in a long time.   
"This morning," she smiled.   
He nodded.   
"Had a good trip?" he asked, before he remembered something that made him frown.   
"Aren't you scared of flying?"   
She giggled.   
"Let's just say that a trip over the Atlantic cured it…." 

He chuckled, and she felt the tiredness conquer her. As she lay down next to him with her head close to his chest she remembered how she had fallen asleep over him at County while he still was unconscious. Back then it had felt awkward, but she had been too tired to find anything else. Now she was in the same situation, if possible even more awkward, but now there was a new feeling as well. The warmth of his body spread to her, and as she closed her eyes he put an arm around her back, making her shiver. 

"Alex helped me…" she suddenly said, yawning against his shoulder.   
"That's good…" he whispered in her hair, leaning back his head against the rather uncomfortable pillow.   
"I didn't know which word meant 'departure'," she whispered.   
He smiled.   
"Odlazak…" he whispered.   
She didn't know he was smiling, but still responded to it.   
"Thank you…" she whispered back, almost asleep. 

***

Dragan crossed his arms over his chest and gave Dubravko a look where they stood in the door, watching Susan lay down in the bed.   
"Just for the records – the female compassion was your idea."


End file.
